"Inventory." Carl flipped to the page with his fishing spear while he walked, then paused. Ugh, Roger said this thing attracts fish, didn't he. That kinda takes the fun out of using it. Maybe I'll just take out the noob stick this time. It's been a while, after all. He flipped to another page and retrieved the starter fishing pole his character had come with. Back to Old Faithful for a bit.
He waved the pole around a little, trying to get a feel for its weight. A random thought occurred to him. Huh, I wonder if Seth'tith fishes. Should've asked him. Gah, I didn't even friend him there at the end. Gotta do that next time. He ambled along the street, closing in on the bridge. Hope Ir'alith's doing okay. That whole thing was so messed up. Hope she's at least gonna press charges with Conflict Resolution. That walkthrough video made it seem like it was a thirty second process to do the full legal filing with all the automated forms. Mina talked like that kid was untouchable, but maybe she was just too scared.
He chewed on the corner of his lip. I should message her at some point and see how she's doing. Maybe on the way back to the workshop. Oh hey, there's somebody else here fishing. Which sort of reminds me, I was gonna try calling Dad to see if we could schedule a fishing trip sometime next summer. Can't believe I've gotta schedule that far in advance to do stuff now…
Carl proceeded onto the bridge while he grumbled to himself about the difficulties of planning things that used to be really quick and easy to do when he'd been younger with less responsibilities but were now a huge hassle, almost to the point that it wasn't worth bothering because of how full his calendar always was—but obviously it was worth bothering because he'd always loved fishing with his dad.
The other morning fisherman was standing some ways down the bridge. The clean-shaven middle-aged man had the same tanned skin and dark hair that most everyone in the city possessed, but he was much shorter, having to reach up slightly to lean his arms up on the railing that faced the river.
Carl decided to stay set up on the far side of the reasonably long bridge. He'd already done a considerable amount of smalltalking that morning, and he was feeling like he needed to recharge a little. Hm, what to use as bait though… He eyed the remaining items in his fishing page. Guess I'll stick with the basics. He set his fishing pole down against the railing and pulled out the can of worms the game had started him off with. This brings me back. Feels like forever ago I last went fishing. After selecting a worm, he tossed the can back into his inventory.
He started to work the worm through the hook, leaving a good-sized chunk hanging off to flop. Yeah, that's perfect. So great the game gives you that starter profession option so you can get right to it when you make a character. The more I play, the more I see why we're so popular. Really feels like you can do anything.
With the bait firmly attached to the hook, he brought the simple fishing pole up and let the line sink off the downstream side of the bridge. No point in doing a big cast to be flashy. River's just gonna carry it around anyway.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as the other fisherman let fly a practiced-looking cast. Not bad, not bad. Waste of time, but I respect the dedication.
The man looked over at him and nodded after a moment.
Is that… Was that a challenge? Carl wiggled his simplistic fishing pole, which didn't have a reel and was literally just a stick with a line attached. Nope, not gonna get drawn…in…
He watched as the other man hauled up a small-ish fish, looked over, and nodded again.
Nope, just gonna stand here and do my thing. In the next instant, Carl executed a secret technique that had been passed down from his father, maneuvering his line in exactly the right way which, if the fish in this part of the game were coded competently, would—
He felt a tug on his line and grinned. Yeah, I still got it. Just gotta pull this guy in nice and easy now… He jerked the line to set his hook, then raised his arm carefully and lifted a fish out of the water that he reckoned was a little larger than the other man's, though obviously he wasn't really keeping track since he'd just wanted to come fish for a bit to relax and…
The man gave a slow nod and cast his line out again, having the clear advantage since he had an actual freaking fishing rod with an actual handle, and guides, and…was that a freaking baitcasting reel?
Carl let out a slow breath. This guy's no noob, that's for sure. Not gonna get caught up though. He unhooked the fish he'd caught and was about to throw it back when he had an idea. I bet I can sell these fish. Or maybe even find someone to cook 'em. Mina really likes eating game food—I guess it is pretty good—so maybe I can catch something we can eat. I mean, obviously if it's cool enough I'm gonna send it to Bobby for her aquarium thingy, but the bar's pretty high at this point. He tossed the fish into his inventory, re-baited his hook, then dropped his line over the side with a little flourish.
Not that he'd intended to make his non-cast look cool, of course. He wasn't competing in any way, and his hand had slipped a tiny bit in the process of getting his line back in the water. That was it. He didn't care one bit that the other guy was already pulling up another fish, this one clearly a size larger than either of the previous ones they'd caught.
A blue status window appeared.
New class acquired:
Angler now rank 1!
1 unused skill point remaining
"Dismiss." Carl twitched his line carefully. No need to rush. Just having a good time fishing here. He felt a nibble, but he didn't move his fishing pole. Not yet. Not yet. Now. He pulled the line up out of the water, revealing another fish.
He grimaced. Kinda small. Not even as big as my hand. He started unhooking it, ignoring the vaguely patronizing grin the other fisherman was giving him from across the bridge. Yeah, that's a throw-back. He dropped the fish off the side of the bridge and went to work, quickly threading his hook through another worm that he pulled from his inventory.
Not that he was rushing, of course. He wasn't competing in any way, and he just wanted to get back into fishing as fast as he could since the fish were biting so aggressively here. That was it. He didn't care one bit that the other guy was already pulling up another freaking fish, matching the size of his last catch. The shorter man casually unhooked his latest fish and tossed it back over the edge, showing a certain deliberateness with the way in which he didn't look over.
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Carl took in a deep breath through his nose and released it through his mouth. Sure is great fishing here. River's not moving very fast, nice and clear, feels warm, fish biting even though it's sunny…
The other fisherman—whom he wasn't specifically watching, but he'd happened to glance over again—started slowly reeling his line in, revealing that he was using a rod with fast action by its bend nearer the tip. Another fish, this one around two feet long, blue, and with whiskers, broke the surface of the water as it flopped about.
Now that's a cool fish. Carl frowned. C'mon, I gotta be able to catch one of those. Bobby loves beards.
A brief memory came to the fore.
"What do you think, Bobby? Should I shave?"
"Nooo!" The ten year-old ran up and threw her arms around his waist, looking up at him with a serious expression. "You can't, Daddy!"
"What's going on?" Sammy called, her little sister's yell rousing her from the couch in the den where she'd been watching the previous night's basketball game.
"Tell Dad he can't shave!" Bobby ordered.
Sammy's eyes grew panicked. "Dad, no!" She ran in and hugged him from the side. "You're not you without your beard!"
"You've never even seen me without it," Carl protested, playing the part.
"Dad." Sammy gave him a too-serious look that made it hard for him to resist giving the game away.
"Dad," Bobby echoed, trying to copy her sister's frown but just being way too freaking cute to manage it.
"Alright, I guess I won't shave," Carl said with reluctance, "but only if you both get all your homework done before dinner."
There was a moment of inaction before the girls stampeded over to the front door to get their book bags. "Hurry!" Bobby whispered loudly.
Carl turned to Annie. "See? Just gotta know how to talk to 'em."
Annie had one hand over her face, her elbow propped up by her other arm as she tried not to laugh.
Carl pulled up another fish, having continued apace while reminiscing. This one was a bit over two feet long, but it wasn't blue, and it didn't have whiskers. He scowled at—
A blue status window appeared.
Fisher now rank 3!
3 unused skill point remaining
"Dismiss."
—the stupid, uncool fish briefly before unhooking and tossing it into his inventory. How come this guy's catching all the cool fish and I'm just getting the boring ones? What the heck.
The other fisherman brought in a smaller, dink-sized fish, but it was pink. Not just a subtle pink, either, but more like an electric pink that would've been exactly the kind of fish that Bobby thought was cool. Not specifically because it was pink—her favorite color was light green—but it was just so weird, as he could imagine her saying.
And then he threw it back into the river without even taking time to appreciate how cool or weird it was.
Carl clenched his jaw.
It was time to stop screwing around.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out his only other type of bait, which was some sort of pellet. Unlike the can of unlimited worms, he only had five of these things, the same number he'd started with. He wasn't totally sure what they'd do, but he imagined they'd have to be better than worms.
At that moment while he jammed a stupid pellet-y thing onto his hook, he was strongly wishing he'd invested some in-game time and money into acquiring a real fishing rod and bait. Sure, he could use his fishing spear, but wasn't that practically cheating if it really did attract fish?
Carl Weathers wasn't one to cheat.
He flicked his line out over the water and focused. All he had to do was fish.
He was good at fishing.
A more recent memory came back to him.
"Shit, Carl, that's gotta be the biggest one yet!" Dad called from the other side of the boat they'd rented.
"How the hell am I even gonna…" Carl grunted. His arms strained with the exertion of keeping tension on the line, and he braced one foot against the side of the boat.
"C'mon, you got this." His dad set his own rod down in its holder and turned to watch.
Carl centered the rod, reeling vigorously as he moved it. He pulled left, fighting as the fish jerked to the right, then quickly switched to the right when it moved in the direction of his pull. There was a moment of lessened struggle, and he used the time to reel again and then get another pull, continuing to maintain tension on the line.
The fish moved right, and he battled it to the left, persisting in his opposition. It was too big and powerful to keep his rod upright, so he contended on the sides, reeling and pulling it closer when it ceased its attempts to flee for even the briefest moment. His heavy, medium action fishing rod that Annie had gotten him for his birthday was bent forcefully two-thirds of the way down its seven foot graphite length.
He lowered his stance, wishing he'd worn something with a bit more traction on his feet as the fish swam mightily to the left, then darted to the right to follow the line. This fish was clearly stronger—bigger—than the others they'd caught over the course of the day.
A wind rose up while he struggled, knocking his hat backwards off his head.
"I'll get it," Dad called. He walked up to the edge of the boat some distance down where he'd be out of range of the war being waged between man and fish and peered over the side, the lost hat held in one of his big hands. "Focus up now. Almost there. Oh, let me get the camera. You know how your mom always loves the action shots."
Carl reeled in the slack in the line again as he angled the tip towards the fish he'd hooked. "C'mon, not while I'm—"
"Carl Weathers battles unknown sea monster, morning of July second," his dad began to narrate, holding his older camera up while he recorded. "Tess, he's been fighting this leviathan for over an hour already. Damn thing must be eight or nine feet long—"
"Dad."
"Oh, right. Sorry, Annie, I'm sure you and the girls are going to see this too—Hi, Bobby, hi Sammy, Grandpa wants to know when he's going to see you both again! Wow, your dad's really strong, isn't he? Look at those muscles!"
"Dad, please," Carl grunted, his technique growing sloppier with the knowledge that he now had to look cool for his unbelievably cute daughters in addition to reeling in whatever he was trying to catch.
"We'll cut it there for now. It'll be more of a montage."
"What… I thought you said I was almost—"
"Carl, please. This isn't your first time on a boat. I'm sure you can tell by the play of the line that you're not even close."
"You've gotta be freaking kidding me."
His dad patted him on the back as he reeled again. "No, I already kidded once. Never again."