It was extremely atypical that he was thinking of the ways he could get away with murdering Doug already.

Even for the worst assholes, that usually took at least a week.

Really, it was impressive. In just a single day, Doug had managed to belittle every single other member of the team, including the new member her was supposed to be impressing, and more specifically even managed to harangue Emma so much that he’d been insulted on her behalf.

Him.

For some random girl.

How the fuck were his other teammates putting up with it?

Actually, no. He knew that one. Emma wasn’t speaking up about the abuse, probably because they were dating or something.

Which was a shame. She was a much better player than Doug was, anyways. He’d never played with a diver who was so ridiculously good at transitioning their laners’ leads into snowballs. She didn’t even talk people through it to manage, either, just sent a few quiet pings until she was acknowledged, then showed up at the perfect time to convert a lead into a kill, then slink back into the mists before the enemy team could manage anything.

The rest of the team was as boring as he’d thought, though. Ranger was an incompetent bruiser player who would have done much better in a mid or carry role, mid was obviously unaccustomed to the role, only warding and paying attention to one side of the lane at any time. Emma was somewhat covering for him, but it wasn’t enough given that nobody could tell with certainty where enemies that nobody could see were. He was fine with the weapon choices, though, so maybe Greg’d been playing there longer than he thought?

Whatever.

The support seemed to be fine. Nothing particularly exceptional, but he didn’t have any complaints about that.

Doug, though.

Doug, he had complaints about.

He wasn’t even really trying. He’d chosen the singular most common carry setup, without a single variance. Then constantly whined over team chat about how the enemy seemed to know exactly how to counter him. Then blamed Emma and Jakob for his own failure to adapt or change anything. Because of course he did.

Quince could manage the next week of this, though– long enough to get through the local. He was glad that this was the Pacific South region, though.

It meant he wouldn’t have to stay long enough for there to be a regional.

He wouldn’t have lasted that long.

Which reminded him to send Emma both a friend invite and an invite to his desktop.

He could manage the week, but he couldn’t manage a week of not commiserating with her. How in the fuck did she put up with that?

It was slower than he’d have liked, but she did eventually pop in to his desktop.

She didn’t even look at any of the Victorian/steampunk street, instead finding him standing in front of the house and cringing before slowly making her way up to him like a whipped dog.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Can you… tell me what I did wrong? So that Doug doesn’t have to?”

He probably should have gone diplomatic when he heard that. It would have been more convenient to the team and contributed better to his long-term plan.

Quince had never been a good long-term planner.

“What in the ever-living fuck are you talking about?”

She made a strangled noise, and looked like she was about to run– but then she didn’t, instead remaining rooted to the ground, staring at him with tears in her eyes.

That managed to piss him off even more than the question had to begin with. What in the hell was going on with this girl that she’d react like that? Who was…

Doug.

Of course.

He flipped up the menu, projected onto the mist next to him, and without even turning his attention turned off the desktop’s background, pulling up what was essentially a concrete box with very nice chairs instead.

He pointed to the chair opposite him. “Sit. Please. I’m not angry with you at all. I am angry, and I need a minute.”

Another quick set of menu actions, this time on the holographic projection that made up the default room. This time, making the wall across from Emma one-way transparent from her side, sticking a door on it, and a dark street on the other. He flicked the menu over to her and was through the wall before it had even finished dissolving into existence, pacing quickly.

It was almost ten minutes before he was finally calm enough to walk back through the door, and he was honestly surprised to find her still in the chair, playing with what appeared to be a fairly complicated miniature representation of a steampunk-styled organ in the menu.

“What’s that you’re working on?”

She jumped in response to that, slamming it into a save folder before he could get a good look at it, and flung the menu back in his direction.

“It’s… it’s just a thing. Based on your uh. Not-here desktop.”

“I didn’t really expect you to stay, after that.”

“Oh.”

“But if you’re willing to talk, I’d like to.”

“Okay,” Emma said, sitting up straighter and pulling all her limbs in.

Quince started to get annoyed again, but pushed that impulse down. It wasn’t exactly helpful here.

“I kind of hate it on your team,”

She gave him that same stupid hangdog look. “Sorry, I–”

That wouldn’t stand. “And you’re the only reason it’s even maybe worth staying.”

She just blinked at him, seemingly unsure. “But all the others left because of things I did…”

“Doubt it.”

“What?”

“Bet you fifty bucks Doug’s the reason they left,” Quince said, with as much certainty as he could put in his voice. He wasn’t really experienced in the whole “emotions” thing, but it looked like he’d be dealing with some of that.

Her next few words were a whisper that he barely caught. “I don’t really believe you…”

“Putting that aside, I’m only going to be staying on the team until this local’s over.”

She looked up sharply at that. “But then Doug’s going to have to find someone new… I should tell him…”

“No. I genuinely do not give a single shit about that jackass. But someone who’s as good as you shouldn’t be left on a team with five fucking deadweights.”

“Huh?”

“I am only on this team for a single local to try to get noticed by a different team. Hopefully a bigger one.”

“Oh. But then, shouldn’t you have told Doug?”

“I don’t give a shit. He can die in a ditch. But you need to go somewhere better, I swear.”

She gave him a weird look. “That’s… the same thing Jessica said, before she left.”

“Well she’s got a good fucking head on her shoulders then! Seriously, what the hell has Doug done for you that bought your obedience like this?”

“Well, he let me on the team…”

“Let you? Let you? That dumbass couldn’t win a single game if you weren’t propping up his garbage team selection. I looked at your replays before I joined, you know. You and Jessica were the only worthwhile team members Selicae has had for its entire lifespan.”

She looked like she was about to cry again, which hadn’t been his intention. He floundered for more words for a second before she finally spoke.

“I don’t really… I’m going to unblock Jess… Don’t tell Doug?” she was looking up at him like she was begging for something, and he had to hold himself back from yelling something extremely angry again.

“Anything you tell me never gets to Doug unless you tell me to.”

“Oh… okay…”

Neither of them continued talking for the thirty seconds until she logged out.

Quince flipped the desktop back over to the original model, though dropping him in the basement instead of out front like he had been.

He spun around and punched the bag he’d set up in there, rocking it.

It was probably a good thing he couldn’t get injured with the current settings.