Chapter 390: Second Match Warm Up
We marched on through the beeps and boops of the 8-bit, 32-bit, whatever-bit orchestra of sound, utilizing instruments of many kinds – the clacker of furiously-mashed rainbow buttons, the rhythmic bang of a gun massacring zombies left and right, the jingle of basketball hoops with every perfect toss – and the many talented musicians, playing without end, mashing those buttons, pulling those triggers, and throwing those hoops... just so many selections to choose from, and yet the question still stand unanswered – which one?
“How about one of those fighting games?” Sammy suggested, eyeing a group of teenagers huddled over a pair of arcade machines blaring out grunts and war cries at the rate of three roars per second. “That’s a sight I’d like to see.”
“Street Fighter?” The reigning champion clapped her hands in excitement. “I’m not that bad myself, we can play that!”
I took one good look at a row of displays running idle and immediately thought to myself – yeah nah, no way.
I mean It ain’t really that fair of a match if one of your opponents had her name consistently plastered all over the high score leaderboards, whilst the other was still grasping the concept of what a joystick is.
Not that bad my ass...
Good racer, good fighter, I’m presuming good shooter too – why’s she not enlisted yet in some world-renowned esports team, I’ll never know.
.....
“Master...” I felt a light tug at my sleeve, I looked over and Ash was pointing a fair distance away. “Whatever that may be over yonder, it has piqued my curiosity, perchance may we – ”
“Ah, even better!” And there went Amanda, still riding high off of her win, already spurring towards whatever the hell Ash was pointing at. The fact that she could tell at this distance over the millions of shuffling heads in the way – just how many times has she been here?
We followed her lead, circumventing the crowd and ending up delving deeper into the complex. Here, there weren’t as many arcade machines, but what it lacked in games, it drastically made up for with... other games, yeah. The more practical kinds.
Claw machines, punch bags, darts, billiards, and there, with one hand running fondly over its smooth edges, Amanda was standing over at one end of a lone air hockey table.
“I’m actually not that bad at this too!” She proclaimed, her smile dripping with utter confidence.
Of course, she wasn’t.
“This is...?” Ash cocked her head, slow to approach the side opposite Amanda’s who was already scouring around her little handbag for tokens.
“Game’s called air hockey,” Sammy said, taking my place as the usual human encyclopedia for Ash. “And this here is an air hockey table. You use these paddles – we call them strikers – and to win you have to score seven points before your opponent does by striking a puck into the opponent’s little slot there, you see that gap over there? Oh, you also have to protect your own all the while, so it’s kinda like real hockey, y’know?”
“I see,” Ash said, nodding attentively. “And this ‘real hockey’ you mention, what is it?”
“Not important,” I said, stepping in and sliding her one of the hockey paddles. “But just so we’re on a level playing field, how about a warm-up round first so that we all know what’s going on?”
I thought it was a good idea, but then a quiet little grumbling to my left, and a show of pouted lips on that same left implied that Amanda certainly thought otherwise.
“You’re only saying that because you want Ash to win, don’t you?” She accused me, folding her arms and turning her nose up in the air. “She’s a passive fast learner, I had her in my party all the time so I know! She levels up like no one’s business! She’s OP.”
Now, I don’t know how many hoops of logic she had to jump to get to that conclusion, but she’s clearly playing the wrong game here... the basketball game is the other way.
“I’m only saying that because, unlike us mere humans, Ash didn’t even know what a hockey puck was until about thirty seconds ago.”
“Same thing either way,” Amanda said, doubling down by slamming both hands down on a table like some kind of ace attorney. “I’m smelling favoritism, that’s not fair! In case you aren’t aware, I’m also playing for you. Where’s my emotional support?”
“Oh boy, what – you want a pat on the head or something? A kiss good luck?”
Even in the face of such an offer, Amanda still kept her lips in a pout. “Tease me all you want but unless you’re actually going to do it, I’m still gonna call bias on your part.”
“Fair point, big bro,” Sammy said, sniggering. “I’m on Amanda’s side here. What’s it gonna be?”
There we go again with my darling little sister putting me on the spot. Can never call it quits, can she?
I paused briefly to glance at Ash, and it seemed she had taken the wise approach of keeping silent and pretending she didn’t exist at the moment. I wish I could do that right now.
Oh, don’t tell me I’m actually gonna have to do it to make her satisfied. Aw man, in front of Ash? Ugh, in front of Sammy? No, you know what? If I can’t appeal to her emotionally... then I guess I’ll just have to appeal to her gamer...ly.
For a moment, I pretended to give it some thought, mulling it over with a silent ‘hmm’ and some profound stroking on my non-existent beard, before finally voicing my thoughts on the matter, to which I only had a single one, “That sounds like losing to me.”
“Sounds like -” Amanda stumbled over her words. “What?”
“You heard me,” I said. “You pretty much just proclaimed you can’t beat Ash at your level. That you have no chance in hell of winning unless you play her while she’s still green. Don’t know about you, but that sounds like admitting defeat to me.”
And it worked like a charm. The arrogant scoff, the disbelieving chuckle, that smarmy little smirk spreading her lips wide. I never thought toxicity could look so beautiful.
“Who said anything about admitting defeat?” She said, hunching forward and batting wide maddened eyes at me. “I never said I’d lose. Who said that? When did you hear me say that? I just said that you wanted her to win more than me.”
“And I never said that either,” I said, throwing out a big frown at her. “But you’re the one going ‘oh no, a warm-up! My one weakness! Oh woe is me, what a world, what a world,’ so really who’s the one that’s really saying stuff here?”
“Oh-ho-ho, alrighty, alright, fine by me!” Amanda shouted, her blazing red cheeks only equally matched by the fire burning in her eyes. “I’ll prove it! I’ll win! No big deal! Take all the warm-ups you want! I’ll show you! I’ll show you all!”
Perhaps I went a little bit too overboard with the mocking there – but hey, it did the trick. Amanda was gunning to play, all qualms set aside. No longer was she the sweet, lovable, soft-spoken maiden I knew her as. Now, The only thing that mattered to her now was the match and only the match... like the true toxic gremlin gamer she really was all along.
“Y’know, maybe you should have just kissed her,” Sammy muttered.
“Mmm...” I narrowed my lips. “Maybe.”
Even Ash looked a bit hesitant to face this new and arguably improved version of Amanda, but since she too had her eyes set on the prize, she once again steeled her resolve, and shifted into a readied stance.
And so without wasting another moment – the warm-up match commenced, and to absolutely no surprise to anybody around, Ash was utterly horrendous at the game.
I suppose it doesn’t help that Amanda was also out for blood, striking at the puck each time with the intent to kill, but even so – I don’t know how you can own-goal yourself three times in a row without doing it on purpose, but somehow Ash managed to find a way.
By the time we got to round seven the score was a six-zero lead – take a guess whose score is whose. It was Amanda’s turn to strike, and she struck alright – hard. It went soaring, like a bullet from out the barrel of a gun that’s how fast it was. Ash reacted just as quickly, I don’t know if impulse or intended, either way in this instance she managed to send me back, striking the edge of the puck by a narrow inch.
Like a pinball, it went zig-zagging across the table, clinking at the sides gradually losing momentum. Amanda caught it just as it slid again towards the middle and shot it directly forward.
Amanda’s words rung prophetically in my head at that moment – that remark about Ash learning fast – because before the puck could even cross over to her side of the table, Ash was already darting forward to intercept, and then with an ear-splitting clink that resounded throughout the vicinity – the puck whizzed from out of sight.
Nobody saw where the hell it went – but the scoreboard certainly did... rounding the constant 0 to the right into a bright, bold 1.
“I believe that’s enough practice for the time being,” Ash casually said. “Let us proceed onwards to the real match.”
There was a palpable tension to the stare they were giving each other across from one another. Wouldn’t call it malicious, wouldn’t say it was mean-natured, it was more like an awareness, an acknowledgment, to a battle worth contending, to a rival worth fighting with.
“Fine by me,” Amanda said, flashing a smile. “But don’t feel too bad when you lose, these things happen.”
“I believe it is I that should be the one saying that to you instead,” Ash responded, reciprocating the smile. “I am, after all, ‘OP’, as you say, am I not?”
Was this taunting? Was this Ash actually taunting? The honorable chivalrous Knight at all times resorting to petty snides? Oh my God, I think I’m gonna cry tears, no joke.
Meanwhile, Sammy was taking a step back, no actually two steps, no wait three steps back, no wait – where the hell is she going?
“I’m just gonna be watching from way right over here,” She shouted, answering my bewildered stare from afar. “Decapitation by hockey puck doesn’t sound nice, so...”
Fair point.
Yeah, I should be moving too actually. I’ve had enough near-death experiences under my belt already.
Let’s not add another one.
I don’t think Nick would appreciate me missing another shift twice in a row, even if it was over my dead, decapitated body.
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