And now...drum roll...page 2. Happy readings. :)
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    The boy was testy. Agitated. Annoyed, to say the least. Maybe it was the hard look he gave the flashing display perched over the walled arena that gave it away. Maybe it was the way his mouth was twisted into a crooked frown. Maybe it was how his brow was furrowed in agitation, with his arms crossed menacingly. Or maybe it was the fact that the agitated physical positions were matched with commentary.
    “Five minutes,” Dech’e said, eyes still sending invisible rays of hatred at the display. “Too long.”
    "Come on Dech’e. It was an awfully good time,” Rose chirped happily. She floated over to him happily, quite the opposite of Dech’e’s current disposition. Her almost silver threads of hair hung over the pale dress and the small set of fairy like wings. Her face gave off an innocent, but very playful look. “You complain too much.”
    Dech’e raised an agitated eyebrow and added an agitated frown. His agitated arms uncrossed and his agitated eyes gave her a look. “What ever you say,” came his reply with an agitated eye roll.
    “You’re too nit-picky.”
    “It took five minutes to shove his face into the dirt. Four minutes too long. That could have been four more wins for me.”
    “Always the perfectionist,” Rose giggled with a wink.
    The mechanical voice interrupted them as it began spitting out data and results into the glassy blocked walls. “Battle ID. A5198OPJ. Time taken. 00:04:57. Reward. 2938 gold. Dirieam Arena rank. Two.”
    “Two?” he said thoroughly surprised. He turned his no longer quite as agitated head to his chipper friend.
    Rose tilted her head, letting the thin strings of hair flutter over her dress. “That would be the data.” She looked at him blankly as the shifting numbers in her eyes flashed about.
    Dech’e pulled out his display as the voice droned and his friend shifted through her own files. His personal display spilled out from the digital blocks of the unruly unreality. Cluttered with thin floating files, Dech’e sorted through his extensive archive.
    “Battle ID. A5198OPJ,” the announcing program repeated.
    "Dech’e,” Rose said coming out of her trance, “it seems like someone entered the arena and managed to change the stats.” She smiled almost innocently. “Whoever it is deserves the number one rank if they got by your security. I want to meet this person myself!” She chuckled happily, completely oblivious to Dech’e disgusted look.
    “Time taken. 00:04:57,” the background continued.
    “Quit laughing and help me find out who this person is. I want their profile pulled up.”
    “Jealous someone got through?” Rose chimed as she reentered her trance. The numbers not only flashed through her eyes but also through her cupped palms.
    “Reward. 2938 gold.”
    Dech’e snorted at the remark. Indeed, he was jealous. Annoyed possibly. Most likely a combination of the two. Not many people could get through his security walls. He would have to see to them himself. He shifted through the numbers as they blinked through his floating display. Profile after profile appeared, only to disappear and be replaced with another.
    “No one in this sector of files,” he told himself. The mechanical voice chimed in again.
    “Dirieam Arena rank…”
    “File sector F879. Cleared,” Rose said in a detached tone.

 
 

Sorry for the wait, but here's CONNECT's first page. Names are tentative...or non-existence. So for the time being, the main male character's name is [?].
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    He was on his own little island. Yes, a not so lonely island in a not so far off place called school, crowded with a never ending stream of tourists. It was a bit like a moving mob. Well, not quite a mob, but something like it. Maybe a cult would be a better term for it…
    Either way, what else could he expect? He was [insert main protagonists’ name here]. The [?]. The new kid that suddenly became the talk of the class, the star quarterback without actually becoming the quarterback or any form of a jock what so ever. Mature, sensible, and all that other good stuff that the girls threw themselves at him for.
    [?] peered over the crowded shoulders as the teacher strolled in. Shoulders back, head high in a gray cocoon, she shot an almost disgusted glare through her speck-less too-bright chrome glasses at the little island.
    “I’d like to begin class,” she snapped. The kids turned their heads and most began to drag their feet to their not so inviting desks.
    “Kill joy,” his friend Mark breathed. “Anyway, tonight at me house, okay? I even invited that hot blond in our math class. I know how you like blonds,” he nudged [?], practically drooling at the thought.
    “You are referring to yourself aren’t you?” he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not the one drooling on the floor. Don’t you ever think of anything else?”
    “What else is there to think of? Hot girls man. Hot girls. That’s good enough for me. What else is there? That nerdy VirtuLife crap?”
    “They’re VirtuViewers moron.”
    “Like you really-”
    “Mr. Anderson! Sit down or leave my class!” the teacher practically yelled.
    Mark shot a look at [?] but pulled his feet to his desk.
    “Now that you all are done, lets begin at section two in book three. They’ll be in the community files on server E.”
    [?] grabbed the headgear hanging from the side of his desk and slid it over his dark, messy hair. As the play jumped against the pane and the teacher began to drone like a robot, [?] slid his key into the Jump Slot. The flashing data ran across the system instead, and for the rest of the period, the dear adventurer sailed to his secret island, away for the tourists and crazy fan girls.



Player 2 defeated. Player 1 wins.
    “Good game man. You’re pretty good at these PVPs. I’m surprised you haven’t entered any tournaments.” The taller, more muscular, and certainly more friendlier player offered a hand to the younger man.
    “Yeah,” he said deafly, shaking his defeated opponent’s hand with about as much enthusiasm as someone watching paint dry.
    “Hey, you should join our guild. We need players like you!” the bear man beamed.
    “I’ll pass,” Dech’e’s monotone voice replied, laced with hinting agitation.
    The man must have caught the hint for he handed the pouch of gold over and digitized out of the arena.