NetherWorld by Daniel Pagan (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📕

devastated him. He yearned for an outlet to exercise his violent tendencies, but NetherWorld had no use for his skills.
NazKlan decided he was perfect as a hired gun. Convincing him was quite easy; he was naturally drawn to violent acts. This was the perfect outlet for the damaged Byte to live out his remaining cycles. NazKlan used him to lasso unsuspecting Bytes into the SubRoots. They would use these captured globes to feed the trained Spys and Kooks.
“Which way, he’s gaining on us!” Lumpy had a much bigger stride that either of them. Even though he lumbered along, his stride made him faster than Whizzy or Nick. Before long he would be upon them.
“This way. There is one lace he is not welcome.” Whizzy pointed his clawed hand to a large coliseum straight ahead. It was pretty close, but they should just make it before Lumpy reaches them.
As they approached the coliseum, Nick could hear cheers, shouts, oohs and ahhs. Lumpy limped along in paced pursuit. An arched entry way was just ahead. They slipped in just before Lumpy reached them.
Once inside, Nick and Whizzy fell into a large cloud of Bytes roaming the large hall that encircled the building. Every few feet, the halls opened up into the seating area that surrounded a large field. Lumpy forced his way into the coliseum and chased after the duo.
The large crowd of Bytes wandered aimlessly, carrying soft drinks and some sort of popcorn-like snacks. Lumpy was hampered by the crowd and lost Nick and Whizzy in the throngs.
“Out of my way people. Move it or else,” Lumpy threatened the loitering wrestling fans.
Byte after Byte bumped into them. There was little room to move around.
“Sticky, follow me,” called out Whizzy.
“Wait up!” cried Nick, forcing his way past a particularly slow moving set of Bytes. They were chatting about the next match and trying to remember where they were seated.
“I think the Underbyte will kill Cybertooth,” remarked one of the snail-like Bytes, while sipping his slushy soft drink.
“Are you kidding me! No way Cybertooth nearly pulled his plungers off the last time they met,” argued the other corpulent Sphere, munching on some nugget snacks.
“Yeah, but he cheated. If the monitor caught him, he would have been disqualified. He always gets away with that stuff,” said the first Byte.
Nick finally forced his way ahead to reach Whizzy, knocking a slushy drink to the ground.
“Watch it Byte!” said the irritated sphere. “You spilled my drink all over. These fans are so ignorant!”
“Sorry pal. I was just trying to…”
Whizzy pulled Nick into the nearest opening.
“Shhh. Don’t say a word. We need to blend in with this crowd to lose Lumpy,” said Whizzy in a hushed voice. “This way.” Whizzy led Nick to the adjacent stadium seats. This place reminded Nick of a football stadium. It was full of rabid fans shouting inane comments under the delusion that their comments made them as tough as the wrestlers they watched.
“Hit ‘em in the visor!”
“Hey! That’s an illegal tube tug! Where’s the monitor? Come on!”
“Now that’s a killer cyplex. What a move!”
Whizzy guided Nick up into the stands. They found a couple of seats in the middle row. They were pretty close to the action. These were the premium seats, thought Nick.
“Now Bic, just play it pool. We don’t want to draw attention. Hopefully Lumpy will lose us and move on. Then we break for the exit and head to HateAsh,” said Whizzy.
“You got it. He looks like one tough dude,” agreed Nick.
They settled into their seats and took in the action. Down below was a circular ring with ropes around it. Two puffed up Bytes were entangled in the ring. A third Byte had blue and white zebra like stripes. He was much smaller than the other two. He was the monitor of the match. This was not like the erotic tangles he saw in Flash Playas. These Bytes look so inflated, that the slightest touch would pop them like a balloon.
“This reminds me of wrestling back home. What exactly is this?” asked Nick.
“This is known as The Calculations. In your world, you ask us for mathematical answers. This is how we do it. We are more than capable of giving the answer right away. But your reaction time is very slow. As a result, we have time to spare. Each Byte in the ring is battling to provide the answer to a mathematical problem. Whoever wins gets to give the answer,” explained Whizzy.
There was a large video screen at the opposite end of the stadium which showed the match in great detail for the Silicates seated in the upper decks.
One of the wrestling Bytes, Cybertooth, had Underbyte in a tubular death grip. This submission hold was causing him great pain. His moans reach everywhere in the stadium. The monitor checked with Underbyte to see if he was ready to concede the match. He spun is a negative motion.
“No one escapes from the tubular death grip,” said the Byte sitting next to Nick. “This should end it. If Cybertooth wins he win be the new champion!”
Underbyte scrambled his tubes to try and free himself. The death grip held firm. Then he pulled some foreign object from his mouth. The monitor was on the other side and unable to see this slight of claw. Underbyte then stuck Cybertooth with the object. A blue electric volt paralyzed him for just a split second. All of Cybertooth’s limbs went limp for a few ticks.
This freed Underbyte from the submission hold. He quickly reversed the hold and applied the death grip to Cybertooth.
“Hey! Are you blind monitor?” shouted the Bytes behind Nick and Whizzy. “He cheated. C’mon!”
Cybertooth was now moaning in agony. The monitor checked with him. After many ticks of of fruitless struggling, Cybertooth conceded the match. The Monitor signaled the end and a loud bell rung.
An announcer spun into the ring. He grabbed a microphone that descended from above the action.
“The winner of the Net Present Value calculation and still NetherWorld Champion, thheee Uuuuunderbyte!” said the announcer in a booming voice. The crowd erupted with boos and shouts of poor monitoring. Meanwhile, the Underbyte grabbed the microphone from the announcer.
“You know I can’t be beat. And I’m still pretty! Hey ByteMe, you know where you can find me. If you want some of this, meet me in this ring for the Square Root. I will cripple your tubes,” threatened Underbyte. He then threw the microphone at the announcer and spun out of the ring to a chorus of boos with a slight undercurrent of cheers.
“And now. If you are ready to wobble, let’s watch the Masked Micro take on the Itty Bittys,” boomed the announcer.
The crowd cheered as a globe wearing some sort of colorful draping entered the ring. On the opposite side, two diminutive Bytes spun in the ring. They were orbiting each other in reckless fashion. Their tiny tubes succumbed to coriolis. Their high pitched shouts sounded like a record sped up to maximum RPMs.
“I love it when the Bittys fight. They are hysterical,” remarked the globe next to Nick.
“It looks unfair. The one guy will kill those little ones,” replied Nick.
“Don’t be too sure. They Bittys never lose. They are pesky bunch. And they are hilarious to watch.”
The Bittys and Masked Micro began their match. Masked Micro charged the Bittys, but he was far too late. They dodged him and regrouped. From behind the Bittys knocked Masked Micro over the ropes. Writhing in pain on the hard stadium floor, Micro screamed for help. Undeterred, the Bittys proceeded to bounce on him with as much pressure as they could muster. Squishy sound filled the area as the relentless pounding wore Masked Micro down.
Eventually the Masked globe passed out from the beating. The Bittys weren’t done yet. They tied all of his tubes in nutty knots, cackling the entire time. These were evil little buggers or they really want the IRR Championship belt.
Next he lifted his enormous limp sphere back on the mat. Inside the ring, they threw Masked Micro at the ropes. When the masked globe bounced back towards them, they drove their shape claws in his equator. His skin ruptures, squirting yellow blood all over the ring. The crowd cheered even more. They were a blood thirsty collection of Bytes. Masked Micro fell to the mat, spattering blood in abstract patterns. The Bittys dived into his equator again to finish the job. After a few seconds, the monitor noticed this bit of nasty play and pulled them off Masked Micro. Embittered, the Bittys cursed high pitched expletives at the monitor.
Then the bell rung and signaled the end of the match. The announcer carefully climbed into the ring, clearly afraid of the sadistic Bittys. They feigned a charged and made the announcer dive to the mat in fear. More cackling ensued. The announcer recovered and grabbed the microphone.
“Winning by technical blow out, your new Internal Rate of Return champions, the Bittys!”
Cheers erupted as these fan favorites orbited each other in celebration. A stretcher that looked like a hammock of sorts was brought into the ring to remove the badly injured Masked Micro. As the medics carried him out of the ring, the Bittys resumed the attack. Wild chants of “Finish it!” filled the stadium. Nick was shocked by the Bytes craving for cruel behavior.
Eventually a group of fellow wrestling Bytes, the Future Value and Cosine champs spun out to help the Masked Micro. They successfully pulled the nasty little spheres away from the fallen wrestler.
Whizzy tapped Nick on the shoulder.
“Psst. Time to fly my man,” said Whizzy. He guided them down the stairs and towards the exit. Lumpy was waiting for such a move. He spotted the two and limped toward them. There was no way they would escape this time.
“Wun all you want mates. Lumpy going to catch you. Lumpy going to hurt you,” said Lumpy in his dopey voice.
“Hurry!” screamed Nick. “He’s gonna catch us!” It was clear that the oversized cauliflowered globe would not stop until he reached the duo.
“Don’t hold your breath on that,” answered Whizzy.
“NazKlan told Lumpy. He say you two vewy bad, wotten Bytes. Lumpy follow NazKlan and will kill you dead. No one escapes,” warned legendary wrestler as he gain ground on the duo.
Whizzy scrambled ahead of Nick. He approached a nearby Blue Guard and said something to him. Nick could not make it out because he was trapped behind another pair of slow moving, slushy slurping Bytes.
The Guard waved over some additional help with his tubes. Four Blue Guards lined up to protect the duo as Lumpy approached. Before he could reach Nick and Whizzy, the Guards restrained Lumpy. He was almost too strong for them. Two Guards were spun aside by Lumpy. You could see