Arriving at the diner by Wyatt’s house, we quickly got a table. We had beat the morning rush. Each of us ordered an omelet, hashbrowns, and pancakes. The goal was to be stuffed so we wouldn’t have to be worried about eating later.
“Damn, guys. I don’t know why I ordered so much food. I’m not even that hungry,” Wyatt said.
I eyed him down like a hawk. “What do you mean, you’re not that hungry?”
“Chill, Gordo. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow. Right now, my flow says I’m not that hungry,” Wyatt said.
“But why is your ‘flow’ saying that?”
“Probably because I’m hungover as shit,”
“Why? Why did you drink so much last night if you knew, if you freaking knew, that we were playing in a tournament today?” I lost all control. My irritation was on a different level. I could start to see why his dad would scream at him.
“Relax, I’ll be good. Don’t you worry about me, I’m well prepared. If anything, I should be worried about you guys not pulling your weight.”
“What are you talking about?” I raised my voice. A few people in the restaurant were starting to look over at us. “You’re our best shot at going to Miami! This all relies on you, man. Darren and I are just trying to make a splash.”
“I really appreciate the support, Gordo, but worry about yourself, okay?”
In my fit of irritation, I took a deep breath, I wanted to argue against him, but I knew he was right.
When our food came by, I ate most of my meal. Darren ate all of his, and then Wyatt ate more than I thought he would, but he still asked for a box. We paid the bill, and Wyatt boxed up his food, but Wyatt sat there in a daze.
“You alright?” Darren asked.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
Wyatt puked all over the table like a grenade exploding.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” I screamed.
“Damn…” Wyatt croaked.
Darren shot out of the booth and immediately grabbed a towel and a stack of napkins from the waitstaff. He came back over and scrubbed down the table as if trying to cover up a crime. Meanwhile, I took Wyatt to the bathroom. Fortunately, he was okay, but I was fuming.
We made it to the tournament just in time. If we had been there 15 minutes later, we could’ve missed our first matches. Many people were still waiting to get their lanyard tags. While in line, Wyatt received glances from everyone in our radius. He certainly didn’t fit in with the scene of folks that played this game seriously. Darren didn’t either. He was the tallest one around.
“Hey, I forgot to ask, what are your gamer names for the event? Mine is GordieHoward.”
Wyatt looked like he saw a ghost, “Whoa! Like the hockey player?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“Dude, is that like, your middle name? Is your middle name Howard?”
“Yeah, man.”
“You know there’s a famous hockey player named Gordie Howe?”
Although I felt a little irritated with him earlier, I couldn’t help but smile at his innocent charm. “Oh yeah, I know. My dad named me after him.”
“Wow… That’s so cool. That’s so badass. Dude, you were here.” Wyatt measured a height with his hand above the ground. “Now you’re here.” He moved his hand further up.
“I’m honored I could rise in the ranks.”
“I mean, he’s a Detroit guy, which is lame, but he’s the coolest Red Wing to ever play the game.”
“Yeah, that’s what I hear. My dad is from Michigan.”
“I didn’t know you liked hockey?” Wyatt was puzzled as if he was quizzed on a calculus equation.
“I don’t, but my dad does. I don’t really watch sports.”
“Wow…” Wyatt drifted off into space.
Darren nodded at me with a grin.” That’s a pretty good gamer name. I’m a little jealous. Mine is just TruthOrDarren.”
Wyatt and I both chuckled. “Wow, that’s baaaaaaaad,” Wyatt said, still snickering.
“Okay, genius, what’s your brilliant gamer name?” Darren gave Wyatt a playful shove.
“I think mine is better than yours at least. I don’t know about Gordie, his name is pretty cool.”
“What is it then?” Darren pressed.
“I want it to be a surprise. You’ll see it in just a second when we get our tags.” Wyatt’s hazy grin strengthened.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Darren and I gave each other both an unsure glance that said, “Riiiiiiiiight.” As soon as the conversation ended, we were the next to register at the table. Darren was first, Wyatt was second, and I was last. We linked back up after checking in and walked down the hall, where some of the top eight players signed autographs.
“Oh damn, there’s Dayzees. Just seeing him pisses me off,” Wyatt said, giving an evil eye by the autograph booths.
“Ha, me too, easy there, killer. Let’s focus on the matches ahead, and let’s see your gamer name,” I said. Wyatt pulled it out for Darren and me to read: Y-do-nut
“Y-doo-nut?” I pronounced, “I don’t get it. Am I missing something?”
Darren was just as lost as me.
“No, you guys are saying it wrong. It’s like doughnut, you know? Since my name sounds like the word doughnut?” Wyatt argued.
Darren cracked up. “What are you talking about? Your name sounds nothing like the word doughnut! The only thing that sounds similar is the end where you say ‘-ut,’”
“I guarantee the moderators say it the same way I did. Don’t be frustrated when they mess it up,” I said, giving Wyatt a friendly pat on the back.
Wyatt frowned. “Damn, I thought I had a good one. Anyways, I’m on side A. What about you guys?”
“We’re both side B,” Darren said as he put his arm around my shoulder.
“Groovy bros, see you on the other side,” Wyatt flashed the peace sign and chuckled. He lackadaisically walked to his side of the convention center.
I was so pissed. I was hoping one of us could be on Wyatt’s side and keep watch on him and make sure he found his matches, okay, but all we could do was check up on him in between our games.
In my first match of the tournament, I felt a spike of anxiety. Even though I was playing a nobody and none of the general public cared about our match, it felt overwhelming to be back in that environment. The convention center was laid out the same way as it was two years ago. Part of me was disappointed. Darren’s match was at the same time as mine, so we couldn’t support each other. Although if there was a round where that happened, the first is best.
I walked to my station and greeted the moderator, “Hey. I’m GordieHoward.” Whoa, it felt weird to say the name after all those years.
“Perfect, this must be CyborgSkeleton,” the moderator. A kid wearing thick-framed glasses and an Elite Crushers t-shirt came up to us. He looked 14 years old.
“Yup. That’s me,” he said.
“Hey, I’m Gordy. Nice to meet you,” I said, reaching my hand out.
“I’m Mikey.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Let me guess, he has an older brother that goes by Gordon? Is this day just trying to troll my emotions?
“You guys ready?” the moderator asked after plugging in our controllers.
I noticed that he was playing with a Hydraphin controller brand while I plugged in my trusty, orange ENController.
“Yessir,” I said.
We were at the character select screen, where I chose my lead-off hero Soul-Steel. Mikey selected Cyber-Skeleton. A character that was a skeleton with iridescent armor plated bones. Cyber-Skeleton could also shoot out lasers from his eyes.
“I had a feeling you’d pick him,” I said.
“Why’s that?”
“Are you serious? Your gamer name is CYBORG-skeleton.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Mikey surveyed the convention hall as if he was looking for someone.
Perhaps his older brother? I sighed.
I let him pick the first map to play at, not that it mattered. He selected the Star’s Edge. How perfect.
At the beginning of our match, part of me felt terrible because I immediately sliced Cyber-Skeleton with a quick fifteen-hit combo. Soul-Steel used a variety of stabs and swipes with his soul stealing sword. Cyber-Skeleton was at my mercy. Mikey’s efforts were useless. Soul-Steel planted his sword in Cyber-Skeleton’s chest, causing him to explode.
“Game one goes to GordieHoward,” the moderator announced.
In an effort not to embarrass the kid, I refrained from selecting Obsidian-Golem, but he changed his character. ‘Plasma-Manticore,’ the game announced.
Wow, not a typical tournament character. Interesting choice.
The same stage was selected. Traditionally, Plasma-Manticore was considered a slow and complex character, but a powerful one. Only pros could play as Plasma-Manticores well because Plasma had harder moves to pull off. The player had to be quick on the controller, and memorize many button commands. Plasma-Manticore had a silver glow through the entire lion-shaped body. It also had a lion’s mane, a scorpion-like tail, and massive rubbery bat wings.
Plasma-Manticore breathed its multicolored flames all over Soul-Steel at the beginning. Mikey had done considerable damage. I tried to squeeze in a devastating attack, but surprisingly Plasma-Manticore shot out blistering hot beams that seared Soul-Steel’s armor.
I was on the ropes. After mashing a few buttons to improve my defensive game, I managed to pull off a couple of crucial counter-attacks. Then the match started to look more like the last. Soul-Steel came back with a furious barrage of slashes, Plasma-Manticore recoiled and backed up until a final stab freed its soul.
“Game two goes to GordieHoward. Congrats, you’ll be moving on to round two,” the moderator said.
“This is such a stupid game!” Mikey screamed, then followed it up with a few F-bombs.
The moderator and I were stunned.
“Hey, Mikey, it’s alright. There’s no need to get that upset; I play this game with some really good people. You’re good at this game. Keep it up, and who knows, you might make a run someday. How old are you anyway?” I asked.
“Fourteen,” he grumbled, avoiding eye contact with me.
“I notice you play with a Hydraphin controller. Have you ever tried playing with an ENController? They’re my favorite. They’re a little more expensive, but I think it’s worth it because it feels better and more––“
“Who gives a shit about a controller brand? You beat me twice in a row. It’s not like it was ever close. It’s not like I played with an old flip button phone as the controller; they’re the same design and everything. Not all of us are rich,” Mikey said as he threw his controller in his bag and stormed away.
I wanted to stop him, but there was no point. Instead, I bolted in the other direction searching for Darren.
Hell, I didn’t grow up in a fancy house with a lot of money. I asked for an ENController for Christmas one year, and it was the only gift I got, and I didn’t even get the most expensive color. What does he know?
I approached Darren’s station, and I saw that he had already finished up his game and shook hands with his opponent. There was no angry outburst, just mutual respect, and they parted ways. They both looked so much alike that I couldn’t tell who won.
He saw me and smiled. “How’d you do, Gordie?”
“I did pretty well. What the hell happened over there? It looked like you guys just finished up a business meeting. I couldn’t tell who won. Judging by your ginormous grin, I take it you won?
“Yeah, you’re right. He’s a pretty cool guy, though!”
I told Darren about the kid I played against and his outburst.
“Yikes, sounds like a brat,” he said.
I agreed for a flash of a second, and then I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just having a bad day or going through a lot.”
Darren laughed. “You sound like Wyatt. Speaking of, let’s go see how our racehorse is doing.”
While walking over to the other side, we tried messaging Wyatt, but no reply.
“I really hope he’s not dodging us because he lost,” I said.
“Relax, Gordie. He’s not dodging us. He can be pretty bad about checking his phone.”
Entering the other side of the convention center, we tried to call him, but there was no answer. It was like finding a needle in a haystack with the thousands of people walking around.
“Where could he have gone?” I asked.
Darren and I stayed put and turned around in circles trying to find him.
“Hold on, I think I see something,” Darren said irritably, heading towards rows of empty chairs in the corner of the hall.