The Shutter System

"How's that for a start, fucker?" Terry yelled.

All three of them seemed to have lost their drunkenness as they started brazenly kicking him. Terry picked him up and punched him in the face. They took turns to punch him.

What ill luck was this that befell him? He didn't even know who Ava was. Why did he have to take punches because of her?

'So much for being a loner.' He thought.

As a loner, noone was supposed to know him. He worked so hard for that. Now these three madmen were destroying his hardwork.

After what seemed like an hour, they stopped and turned around and left in their car. It was then that Thomas realized that they had come in a car. How did they drive drunk?

That wasn't the priority now because his body was physically down. His face was swollen and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

He lay sprawled on the floor for a while before he picked himself up. He rode his bike home. It was past 11.

'Past curfew.' he thought but what did it matter. He didn't think his father would be so insensitive to scold him in his current state.

Well, that was what he thought until he got to his doorstep. Then, he started rethinking it. It was completely possible for his father to scold him. Ever since his father's other wife stepped into that house, every impossible thing had become possible.

He didn't care anyways. Anything that was going to happen will happen. Nothing he did would change the outcome.

He rang the doorbell. The door was opened by their family butler. He dragged his feet in. He saw at the table, his father and his second wife and stepchildren. They were eating at the table. Dinner at that time would be considered abnormal for most people, but in the Grayson family, many things were abnormal.

Occasionally, his father would add some food for them in their bowls or feed his wife from his own spoon. They were acting like the picture perfect family. Such love. If only Thomas knew what love meant.

Since they were all doing their own thing, with Thomas's character, there was no need to trouble them. He made his way up the stairs. But suddenly, he heard a loud bang. He ignored it. He never really cared about anything. Sounds were no exception.

"Stop right there, boy." His father, Leonard Grayson called. Probably, due to his wife's influence, he had forgotten Thomas's name over time. It was always 'hey boy' or 'hey you' or 'hey there'.

Thomas paused.

"What's up man?" Thomas was just as sarcastic as his father.

"You dare speak to me like that. Do you not know I am your father?" He asked in an angry voice.

Thomas looked at him in the eye and sighed. This man, could he not see his condition. Although Thomas had been mentally prepared for such an outcome, he was still just a 16-year old boy and his emotions were still in their primal stage.

"Leonard, please don't scream at him. He's just a child." His father's wife said in a coy voice. She would always speak like this to look like the mother who cared. But Thomas was naturally never intrigued or bothered by her.

"A child?" Her words always had a way to get his father angrier at him. "He is coming home by this time in such a state and you call him a child. He must have been out in some gang and had a fight. This boy must be controlled before he gets out of hand and ruins the face of our Grayson family."

Thomas who heard what his father said couldn't help but chuckle. He chuckled then smirked. His father looked at him with even more disgust.

"Go up to your room, now! Until I say so, you are not allowed to leave." His father said.

Thomas didn't really care about this kind of punishment. He was completely anti-social and could stay in his room for months playing games without bothering to go out. He didn't give a damn about his appearance and so it didn't matter if he couldn't stay in shape because of his indulgence. All he cared about were himself, his video games, his books and his music. These four things. Asides these, all the rest could go to hell.

He sighed, "Can I at least get a doctor?" He asked.

"You're wasting my fucking damn time!" His father replied.

"Leonard, don't use such words on the child." His stepmother's annoying voice yet again came up in the atmosphere.

Thomas looked at his father incredulously. This nigga... was this cruel to his own son?

During this time, three expressions came one after another on Thomas's face. The first was shock and disbelief. He didn't believe that his father would do that to him. The second was anger and disappointment. He was angry at his father. The final expression that settled on his face was the nonchalant kind. In the end, he wasn't someone who expected much anyways. The world was just the world and people were just people. Nothing more. His father was no different.

"Very well then." He said and made his way up to his room.

If his father wouldn't get him a doctor,he would have to rely on himself for the treatment. If he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself.

He locked the door and went to take a shower. After that, he took out his barely adequate first aid kit. He did the best he could to himself with the available materials.

And then, for the first time in his life, since it became shitty, he didn't follow his routine_ instead, he laid down to rest.

For 18 hours, Thomas for the first time, actually SLEPT.

...

The following day.

Thomas woke up. It was a little after 6:00pm. Damn. That was good rest for his shitty life.

His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He first stood up and stretched. He started cracking every muscle in his body. One by one. After that, he headed to the bathroom. He took a quick shower.

He put on his clothes and walked to the door. When he turned the knob, he realized that he couldn't open it. It had been locked from outside. It seemed his father was truly serious about what he said.

'Oh well!' He thought.

He turned and sat at his desk. He turned on his computer. He was about to play. He pulled open a two-door cupboard on the floor. Since he loved playing games, he usually had tons of snacks to assist him as he played.

There were many snacks in the cupboard. Snickers, Pringles, Kopiko, Kit Kat, Cheetos, Cheerios, Oreo cookies, Ritz crackers, Graham crackers, just name it. The kind of things he spent his money on asides probably purchasing a new video game cassette or buying some new memory chip. Hmm, shitty life.

He was a foodie and sometimes he wondered why he wasn't obese. It was probably because of excessive gaming or it was probably just genetic.

It didn't matter. After all, his love for food had saved his life. He knew his father was crazy and his stepmother was even crazier. It wouldn't be abnormal if he was locked in for three months without any food.

He would probably be dead by then and they would immediately stash his body away. He was a loner. Someone noone knew. It would be very easy to destroy his mere existence. He couldn't really take any chances. His life mattered to him more than anything else.

If he rationalized the snacks well, they could last for at least two months. And if he took on the risk of suffering organ damage, cardiac arrhythmia, severe hypoglycemia, they could last for four months.

In order to remain assured, he had to take that risk. He wasn't really sure of how long they'd keep him in here. Gosh! He was just sixteen years old. Was he supposed to be going through such hardship at his age?

He wondered.

He turned on the "Call Of Duty" game. He had just finished with the presets when his screen started to glitch.

Red parallel lines appeared on the home screen of the game. They seemed to kind of spill blood. Yes, curvy streaks of red flowed down them. It was scary to look at.

Thomas immediately stood up from his chair and started banging the system unit of his Play Station. The screen instantly blackened. Then it turned on again. This time, it seemed to be on but was unable to display anything. His computer screen was grey.

A tiny speckle of light twinkled at its centre and then the speckle started expanding on the screen. After a few seconds, the speckle flickered and went off.

Thomas looked at this scene in amazement. He started vigorously tapping away at the keyboard of his computer. He was trying to restore viewing.

The computer refused to respond and once again, the screen lit up in gray and started making crackling radio sounds. The radio sounds stopped and a high pitched sound rang out for a second.

Thomas had to put his fingers in his ears. The scene on the screen was replaced by SMPTE color bars.

Then the computer turned off and a floating hologram that displayed hieroglyphics appeared behind Thomas.

As if realizing where they were, the hieroglyphs twisted and shrunk, forming English alphabets, the ones he could understand.

A mechanical female voice spoke up, "Congratulations, you have played for the ten thousandth time. Welcome to The Shutter System."

Ten thousandth time? Shutter System? What the heck was that?

Thomas had many thoughts running through his head, each one occasionally colliding with each other. He was amazed by the hologram in front of him. If he was melodramatic, he might have rubbed his eyes and looked again. If he was easily fascinated, he might have turned to ask a million questions without caring to breathe in once. If he was what most people considered normal, he might have fainted in fear. But he was none of these. He was the simple-minded, logical, indifferent and uncaring son of the Grayson family. He could never be bothered by anything.

The thing in front of him could be considered amazing and for a moment, just like every other sixteen year old, he was amazed. But after his amazement came his calmness. He was a natural and didn't have control over his emotions or expressions. He was just naturally like this, uncaring.

The hologram displayed a string of words. He read them.

Name: Thomas Grayson

Level: 1

EXP: 15

[Attributes In Gaming]

Strength: 15

Dexterity: 20

Speed: 13

Precision: 12

Perception: 10

[Miscellaneous]

Stealth: 9

Control: 16

Intelligence: 20

Thomas looked at them and then it occurred to him. He had just obtained a system and could now be anything.