“I don’t get it. How do you know there’s something there?” Amelia cursed under her breath at Raven.

They sat in the living room of the Ranch, which Raven had finally nicknamed. It had only been a matter of time. At least, Amelia had reflected, she had named it the Rebel Ranch instead of the Raven Rebel Ranch.

“You’re just going right to it,” she complained a second time.

“Girls Academy 3 stuff is obvious. How can you not see it? You’re supposed to be helping.” Raven complained right back at Amelia.

She had a single keyboard in front of her and was expertly pressing buttons with one hand. When the issue of how she would control console games on the light curtain had come up she informed Amelia that instead of a controller she would use a simple analog keyboard and program all the keys to be on the same side. She could move with one finger and hit the action buttons at appropriate times with her others. Since there was only one direction the characters could travel at a time it worked out surprisingly well. To Amelia, it looked like Raven was playing some sort of strange keyboard guitar. Infrequently, Raven would tell Amelia to take over and Amelia would have to use the controller. She just couldn’t get the fingers of one hand to do all the complex movements of which Raven seemed instantly capable.

“That wall, that one you just pressed and found the secret switch into Mr. Iwamoto’s secret laboratory? It looks like the last seven walls.” Amelia was starting to get irked.

“Wow, Amelia you didn’t have a childhood did you?” Raven glanced at her smirking. “There’s a break in the wall carpet fringe. Obviously, so the door can open.”

“No way!” Amelia peered closer at the screen, and was disgusted to see it was true. It was the tiniest bit of break and Amelia had looked over and discarded the visual cue without thinking.

“Aidan saw it.” Raven said confidently, a dangerous smile playing across her face. Any chance to cause trouble. It earned a quick narrowing of eyes from him while she hurriedly looked away innocently.

Amelia glanced over her shoulder at Aidan who was playing with his terminal on the couch. They both sat in front of it on the floor in cross-legged serious gaming stances. Aidan shook his head, turning his attention to Amelia. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Did you?” Amelia said accusingly. Her eyes narrowed, and when he looked up again he immediately determined that she would instantly detect a lie. He sighed, and nodded, before going back his Graphic Design software.

“What are you making?” Amelia was momentarily distracted at how intensely he was working.

“I’m fusing an ice spell field with an air field and restricting activation areas,” Aidan said unhelpfully. He smirked slightly, and after a moment his eyes flicked up to see the dead expression on her face. “I’m making a spell so I can make ice steps in thin air. Like a suspended air staircase made of ice.”

“With ice?” Amelia questioned, immediately interested. Still there was the hint of doubt in her voice with his general idea.

“Amelia look, Iwawhatshisface has a science lab exit near the girl’s lavatory! What a perv!” Raven cried, releasing her hold of the keyboard and tugging on Amelia’s sleeve.

“Yes, with ice.” Aidan said, his face suggesting he wasn’t sure why that was the issue she had with it.

“Ice is slick you know. You’re making slippery steps. Can’t you use something else?” Amelia shrugged deciding it was none of her business and turned back to the light curtain to see what Raven was pointing out. “Ew, this game is a little too realistic. Although I don’t understand why all the girl’s in this shower room are standing around in their underoos.”

“But ice is pretty…” Aidan trailed off, immediately seeing that Amelia was right and scowling. From his movements he was deleting something.

“They’re chatting! Gossipping! Comparing each other’s cup size! It’s a time-honored tradition in Japan.” Raven exclaimed.

“They were totally fine with us emerging from a secret part of the wall.” Amelia pointed out, baffled at how a bunch of girls were totally fine with combing each others hair in an open area bathroom while wearing bras and skirts. The fact they had emerged from a secret doorway with a small musical chime hadn’t bothered anyone.

“It probably happens all the time,” Raven said after a moment of thought.

“Japan is a mysterious place,” Aidan said. “Save at some point. Forsythe will be on in 10 minutes.”

“Look!” Amelia pointed doggedly, determined to contribute something to this. “One of the faucets isn’t turning on and one of the girls is complaining about it! You should investigate!”

“I don’t think…” Raven began doubtfully.

“Perhaps, just poor plumbing.” Aidan said behind her, snickering quietly to himself.

Raven, probably just for Amelia’s sake, investigated the fixture thoroughly. She spoke to the girl complaining about it and tried a number of actions before finally announcing that the idea was a dud. Amelia scowled peevishly. “Uggh!”

“Saving,” Raven said sweetly. She saved her data to the terminal and closed out of the program, instead of bringing up the Ethernet browser. “What was the network Aidan?”

“It was Melbourne Is On Fire.” Aidan supplied, finally putting his terminal down. He pulled his legs up under him and leaned back against the couch. Amelia immediately used it as an excuse to scoot backward over the floor so she was in front of him. Feeling obliged, he put his fingers in her hair and started petting her head while Raven brought up the live simulcast of ‘What’s Cooking Melbourne!’

“...g’day and welcome. It’s a hot day here at the Melbourne Cooking Institute of Space and Technology, I’m your host Dmitri Petrovik. Today has already seen a flurry of activity. Hundreds of applicants were selected for a grueling 3 hour culinary culling! Let’s recap as we work our way toward our final two contestants.” The man turned to the screen beside him, and immediately the light curtain dissolved into images of a great number of people cooking.

“Did I miss anything?” Elisha breezed in and settled on the couch near Aidan, immediately making a face when she saw they were doing a recap of the cooking competitions earlier steps. “Why didn’t they stream the selection process?’

“Too many people and not enough cameras, I’d guess,” Aidan said. “We’re about to see if Forsythe made the cut. He really was only accepted because he’s a Hall of Famer and his main claim to fame is the cooking videos MKC Online puts out. I mean he doesn’t even have a degree.”

“He made it,” Elisha said confidently. They were all watching the screen now as peppy music filled the room. Chef after chef was shown preparing food, with thousands of people gravitating between cooking ranges in an open auditorium and even spilling out the building onto the nearby campus and street. They had apparently been closed in order to make space for the event.

“As you can see there are so many competitors and so many civilian taste-testers that it’s impossible to do the entire event justice,” Dmitri’s voice came over. “Thousands of people gravitating between cooking stations as hundreds of chefs diligently cook appetizers and small entrees. Several stations with the most activity will be selected in the first hour to advance, while the losers will be asked to pack their utensils and scram back to their kitchens to sharpen their knives for another day. As the number of chefs decreases people will pick up another tab and cast their votes again and again for the remaining two hours.” The scenes advanced, and everyone in the room watched and waited for a hint of Forsythe. So far he wasn’t on screen, as it was filled with chef after chef being asked to leave by the selection committee when they revealed they were under the minimum number of customers.

“Hour two was much the same, and the remaining 162 chefs were put to another grueling session of public supply and demand.” This time the flashes on the screen were chefs doing good work, smiling and chatting as they grilled or barbequed. Again, Forsythe didn’t appear.

“I’m picturing Forsythe, standing quietly cooking, not interacting with the crowd and getting cut.” Aidan said softly. “That would be sad.”

“No way.” Elisha leaned forward confidently. She didn’t explain her rejection of Aidan’s worry even when Raven and Amelia looked at her, instead sitting nervously on the edge rocking back and forth.

Amelia had that sinking suspicion herself. Forsythe just wasn’t personable enough to be gathering a crowd around him. His food was probably next level, perhaps even better than everyone present but his presentation and the way he acted on a social level left much to be desired.

“Finally, the remaining 35 were asked to submit an entree to our second panel of judges. Not the ones doing the final judging, no, a class of alumni from our very own institute! Chefs and Culinary Connoisseurs who have started large and respectable businesses or appeared and won all over in worldwide competitions.” Dmitri trailed off, and this time the pictures that accompanied the cooks and their dishes had a number count on them. They were going to show all 35.

“Moment of truth!” Elisha rocked back and forth, terribly excited.

They all waited, starting to get nervous when suddenly a familiar face showed up in spot 14. It was Forsythe, wearing an apron that said ‘I will wok you.’ He had some sort of fish dish on a bed of carrots with what looked to be a brown sauce that was amazingly splashed across the plate in an intricate design. It made Amelia’s mouth water just by looking at it. The caption read Pan Seared Ahi Tuna with Ginger, Lemongrass Braised Carrots, and Citrus Sauce variant.

The rest of the entries breezed by with Amelia holding her breath. Raven looked bored, her heels clicking on the floor as she knocked them together as she watched. Elisha was squeeing a little bit, making excited noises. “He wore the apron I printed out for him!”

“I wanted him to wear ‘wok you all night long’ but you can’t have everything I guess. I lost to Elisha.” Raven said off-handedly.

“At last, after a grueling, almost inhumane display of eating, our panel of judges narrowed it down to the final challengers!” Dmitri appeared again and then grinned, motioning to the side of the screen. “The first is David McIntire, a local favorite and recent graduate making big waves.” A short man with a brown goatee moved on stage. He wore a simple white apron and a sharp black shirt. He waved as he entered the shot.

“Boooooo!” Raven hissed and threw small popcorn at the screen. She had wandered off at some point and come back with it. Amelia didn’t remember her leaving, which told her how engrossed she had been.

“If I win, I’m going to take my daughter and her mother to New Zealand and start a small restaurant with the $75,000 prize as a downpayment. I promised them we’d make it a family business. Unfortunately, after I graduated I haven’t spent nearly enough time with them and our love of cooking is supposed to bring us together not separate us.” David said seriously. “I’m told that we’ll be making one final entree for 3 judges. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that I don’t have to cook for more than ten thousand people at this point in the game. I plan on using my family recipe to make a Roast Tenderloin Gnocchi.” He grinned impishly at the camera as if well used to the spotlight.

“Announcing his dish is kind of…” Aidan said distastefully. “Arrogant isn’t it?”

“1000 gold says Forsythe just blows him away with his response. Like the guy’s face right? It’ll just explode.” Raven predicted.

“Sucker bet.” Aidan finally decided, grinning back.

“We’re excited to have you here David!” Dmitri grinned at him. “I’d ask how the wife is but I’m thinking I might ask her instead! She’s in the audience today and we’ll have plenty of time during your 45 minutes cooking session to poll the audience.”

“Don’t hound her too much,” David said jokingly. “She doesn’t like the limelight and I still have to live with her even if I lose!”

“Chummy.” Amelia said, feeling her face turn. Dmitri had talked to David like they were best buddies, co-conspirators even.

“Next up of course is our dark horse for the day, and I have to admit I had to read his application twice to make sure I got it right. His real name will be listed in the credits of the show but he wishes to be known as Forsythe for convenience sake and because his biggest fan likes the name. An amateur with no culinary schooling, he’s made somewhat of a name for himself as a renowned chef on that game you might have heard of or even love to play, Awakened Aspiration Online’s very own Forsythe!”

Amelia was silent even as Elisha and Raven started hooting. She turned her head around slightly and looked at Aidan, marveling for a moment. He met her gaze and smiled as if knowing what she was thinking. He always seemed to know. She was smiling back. It hadn’t been announced that Forsythe was a finalist until this very moment, but when it came down to it, none of them had believed in their hearts for a second their friend wouldn’t be making his appearance. “Forsythe victory,” Amelia whispered.

Forsythe entered from the right coolly, looking like it had never been a doubt in his mind regarding whether he would make it this far. “Thank you.” He was wearing ‘wok you all night long’ as his apron, eliciting chuckles from Aidan and Amelia and an envious look from Elisha while Raven crowed her victory.

When he didn’t say more than that Dmitri laughed hesitantly. “Tell us something Forsythe, why did you decide to join the competition? And let me say congratulations on making it here! What will you do with the prize? Are you daring enough to tell your competition what you’re going to make here today?” One question after another. Amelia sympathized with the host because Forsythe was a royal presence. When he looked around it was with the gaze of a supreme ruler. It was only by his benevolence that anything existed.

“I joined this competition because I was interested in watching the other Chefs. During the few 5 minute breaks, I collected dishes from some of them. Many were delicious, and some were curious. It was most enjoyable.” Forsythe intoned slowly. He seemed to be going down the list of things that Dmitri had asked him. “Thank you, I was concerned that I would not gather a crowd but I just started talking about what I was doing, and why, and a crowd gathered. Thank you, mysterious Melbourne crowd. I am still grateful that I can cook one last time for the last 3 judges, and I am hoping that Chef McIntire would be gracious enough to make a 4th plate so I might taste his family cooking.” Forsythe glanced casually at David, whose face had gone rigid. He nodded in a jerking motion that he managed to smooth out as if this had been expected all along. “I haven’t decided what to cook, but if I had I would not mind sharing it. I am considering a scallop dish. As for the prize. I had not thought about it. If I win, the woman of my affections will marry me. Therefore, I will give the prize money to Chef David McIntire as I have no need for any prize other than the aforementioned.”

Silence descended on the simulcast, and Forsythe, sensing he had said something awry, added to his statement. “I was moved by his announcement that he wishes to move with his family and cook with them. It is a most admirable goal.”

David was the first to recover, talking over Dmitri who had started to sputter. “That isn’t much motivation for me to win, Forsythe. You have to have your own, you know, ambition?”

“Ah. My ambition is to be the best cook in AAO and the world. I will achieve this through my own power.” Forsythe said regally. “$75,000 is unnecessary.”

“Well, then it kills my motivation.” David’s eyes were narrowing. He seemed to realize this dark horse could be no end to trouble. Fascination was part of the streaming and cooking game, and Forsythe had a powerful mystery to him.

“Ah. Then if I don’t like your dish, I won’t give you the money?” Forsythe asked him, as if he were compromising.

“I’ll… definitely hold you to that.” David whispered, his face starting to go pale.

“KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.” Elisha actually got up and started dancing from foot to foot. “How does he say such embarrassing things? God if he’s going to be my step-dad he needs to tone it down. I’m never going to be able to step foot outside. I’ll die every time someone looks at me and asks me if he’s my dad!” Her face was flushed bright pink.

“I wish Hunter didn’t have to work.” Aidan complained. “I bet she and Elisha would hold hands and dance around the room. The lights might even dim, compensating for all the bright red.”

Amelia smirked, “it is Hunter we’re talking about. He just said that and she probably dropped a patient on the floor and walked out to hitchhike to the competition.”

Elisha shot him a deadly glare but Raven interrupted whatever barrage of insults Aidan and Amelia might have deserved. “Is Hunter really going to marry him if he wins?”

Elisha nodded, her face twisting into an incredibly soft smile. “Yeah. I think he stopped listening when he asked her. You know he did the whole ‘if I win will you consent to be my wife’ spiel and she nodded and then told him that even if he didn’t win she’d be his wife, but they’d have to be engaged for a while. I think he stopped listening after the first bit.”

“Forsythe…” Raven said with disgust. “You’re totally the worst.”

“Elisha.” The light curtain spoke with Forsythe’s voice, shocking all of them into silence. “A gnocchi is typically a doughy type of dumpling. Since it is generally seen as a starter dish the fact he is adding a heavy meat to it means that he is going to manipulate it in some way to make it an entree. I look forward to his result, but I want you to pay close attention. There are many ways and ingredients from which to make gnocchi, but generally speaking, it is an excellent vessel for pleasing the palate.” Forsythe had turned to a camera and was lecturing, much as he did in the kitchen when Elisha was there. She was standing stock still, her mouth open and shock on her face.

“Who is Elisha?” Dmitri asked jovially. “Could she be the girl? Eh? Giving her tips on cooking already?”

“No, Elisha is her daughter. A genius and splendid girl that will make a fine Chef.” Forsythe broke into an uncharacteristic smile and waved at the screen.

“Poor Hunter.” Aidan said at once.

“Suffer well,” Amelia agreed.

“What? What? What?” Raven said, suddenly hopping up and down from her seated position and looking at them.

“As if that didn’t make Forsythe the number one heartthrob in Melbourne?” Aidan scoffed. “Even I think he’s totally hot now.”

Amelia gave him a strange look and he just looked back at her with a shrug. It was a subtle roll of his eyes that said ‘why don’t you get on the network and confess your love’.

“I admit, his hotness factor didn’t really need any help. He already looks like a living marble statue of some Greek god. Some girls go for the tall dark and stoic too.” Amelia noted, earning a strange look of jealousy from Aidan. She grinned and patted his knee, mollifying him to some extent. “Turnabout is fair play.”

“EEEEEEEE.” Elisha sat back down and put a pillow over her face making strange excited sounds. Amelia thought for a moment she might start hyperventilating.

“Well, what an interesting exchange from the competitors! I’m being rushed along by our studio director who is telling me I can’t let you guys fill up all of our screen time without cooking!” Dmitri laughed, sounding forced. Amelia thought personally that she could watch Forsythe verbally sparring with this David McIntire all day long and be perfectly satisfied. “So let’s bring in our guest judges!”

“First, let me introduce Anton Frederick! An author of the best selling series ‘So You Want To Cook, Huh?’ and the owner of a cafe in London renowned for high-class Italian cuisine, he made his way to us here in Melbourne because he was especially excited about traveling and seeing new cuisine!” Anton made his way on stage, waving briefly and seating himself at an empty table that would seat 3.

“Second, though she hardly needs introduction, ‘Flavor of the South Calls’ Georgette “Buffy” Summers!” A perky blonde appeared on stage, smiling briefly and winning over the attention of several cameras. They changed shots multiple times to keep her smiling and beautiful face in view until she sat.

“Finally, you know him from the ‘Who Can Make It Cuisine’ challenge series that airs every year. The hard to please, undeniably knowledgeable, science food guru, Cline Stass!” At this a very cool older gentleman entered, eyeing the camera with just the tiniest hint of disdain as he moved past his co-judges and sat. He leaned back in his chair, his countenance one that was already bored with the scene laid out before him. Amelia wondered if any of the judges had heard the exchange between Forsythe and David. She was guessing, from the way they were eyeing the competitors, that they hadn’t.

“So without further ado, and with no restrictions on your choice, let’s get cooking!” Dmitri waved and Forsythe and David disappeared. Moments later they were shown side by side in two identical and clinical looking kitchenettes. David was moving around checking cabinets while Forsythe simply stood behind the burners, looking thoughtful. “Alrrrriggght!” Dmitri called. “45 minutes to cook! Let’s do this!”

“I don’t know if I can watch this.” Raven said finally. She started to look longingly at the hallway. “You don’t mind if I just start my save from my room, right Amelia?

“Rejected. I am invested in your stupid ass game.” Amelia growled. “We must find out who killed me, the lovely girl, Takanama.”

“You’re kidding.” Aidan grimaced. “That is really her name?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Shut up Aidan. It’s important at this point. I have spent an hour of my life and I will not rest until I know the secret of the academy.” Amelia practically glowered at him but relented when he resumed petting her head. “Why can’t you watch this?” Amelia turned back to Raven.

“Forsythe is gonna be himself,” Raven said simply. “Can you really watch someone who is going to win over and over all the time through overwhelming force? It’s just plain irritating. He’s a robot.”

Amelia smirked, wondering what Raven would think if she told her that Raven was an existence that was much the same. There just weren’t many situations where Amelia thought Raven would lose. Even when she did, like with Victoria and even at the dojo, it seemed like a fated encounter that she lost so that she could win. Even playing the stupid analog game made it feel like the heavens realigned themselves for her benefit.

“He’s not a robot.” Elisha’s voice started to rise, surprising Raven. Elisha immediately retreated, realizing she had been a little too angry in her interjection. “I mean… he’s awesome and…”

“Your daaaaaad.” Raven’s eyes narrowed and got that dangerously playful look she got. “Forsythe’s gonna be your daaad, Forsythe’s gonna be papa-san.”

They were interrupted when they all lost focus and turned back to the light screen. Dave the Chef was starting to boil up his noodles. The problem was that it was only moments into the program.

“How does that work?” Amelia sat straight up, her vision immediately focusing. “I’m no cook but don’t you have to like, make noodles? Even if they come out of a box?”

“I was actually wondering about the tenderloin.” Aidan admitted. “To cook a proper beef tenderloin it takes a number of hours greater than 45 minutes if you want it to be cooked all the way through and not tough. Forsythe never mentioned an alternative way.”

“Well there is an alternative. You use the cooking array.” Elisha said quietly. “But he didn’t do that. It’s like his beef was ready for him.”

They were saved from further speculation when Dmitri began talking excitedly. “As expected from a long-time competitor and pro, David has already prepared his base noodles and mostly cooked his beef before the event today. Totally within the rules since the competition started earlier this morning. He was probably working on those noodles and the beef while progressing through the competition. A complete marvel considering the talent necessary to do those things and win audience favor in order to make it to the final competition. Forsythe, as a first-time competitor, are you alarmed at your opponent’s preparations?’”

Forsythe for his part was shown calmly setting out two skillets as well as a baking tin. He looked somewhat stymied by the question, and after holding canola oil in his hands for a minute he shrugged. “No, I understood the rules. I just couldn’t decide what to make. I decided to wait. It will all work out. Probably. I am gratified that my opponent had a clear understanding of his end strategy.”

Dmitri laughed nervously, not knowing what to make of Forsythe. “I have hosted a lot of shows ladies and gentlemen, and that sort of confidence is legendary. David seems absolutely prepared for this event and his competitor didn’t even blink.”

They panned to the judges, two of which were animatedly talking about how David was much more prepared than Forsythe.

Anton laughed, and then pointed. “This is the difference between someone who is pro and an amateur. Look at him. David has prepared since he has heard of this competition. I admire a man who can win the crowd to reach this point as well as work the entirety of the time toward his victory.”

“Yes,” Buffy, to his left, nodded. “Though I don’t feel like we can count out the other one. Forsythe was it? He’s just methodically putting out cooking materials. If he really is doing scallops then he is promoting all his skills and talents to those few minutes when he will do the carrots and cook the scallops. Who can say whether they will triumph? I, for one, will let taste rule my decision.”

“Oh yes, I as well, but what taste can contend with hours of preparation?” Anton wanted to know. “Perhaps Clive has an idea?”

Clive, the third judge, had a terminal out and didn’t pay any attention. After a moment both judges started ignoring him again and continued to talk about the virtues of both Forsythe and David. Clive continued to play on his terminal, reading something about today’s earlier events. The cameras shifted away from him without showing what he was working on. If anything, the only reason they seemed to show him was because he seemed so disinterested in the current competition.

As the obvious underdog, Dmitri tried to cover Forsythe first. “So what are your plans today Forsythe?” He asked, intending to tip the audience to what he was actually doing.

“The scallops require very little time except for the cleaning.” Forsythe said calmly. “The carrots and the cranberry chutney will require a great deal of time to be ready. As such, I am cleaning the scallops, then I will add the carrots to their own pan and watch them closely. The chutney is something I will be watching until the end from boiling water to the cooling process.” As if to emphasize this, Forsythe was already separating the scallops, slightly smaller than his fisted hand, from their shells with dedicated and true knife work. He was incredibly thorough even though he was being quick. It took less than a minute to clean 10 of them from their shells. Sometime between Dmitri watching the judges and seeing their reaction to his interaction with Forsythe, there were already cranberries and shallots roasting in one of the pans, slowly cooking up to temperature.

“So you think your decision at the last minute stands a chance against Chef Dave who has been working toward his goal the entirety of the day?” Dmitri pressed. “Do you feel any pressure from your competitor?”

“No,” Forsythe admitted. “I don’t feel his cooking spirit from here. Perhaps if we weren’t separated by a wall. I hope his dish turns out. I thought it was largely audacious myself.”

“Audacious?” Dmitri said quizzically. Amelia immediately thought that Dmitri had made a mistake by giving in to his curiosity and pursuing the line of inquiry.

“Most of the ingredients he is giving the judges will be pre-made. He had all day to do it but it doesn’t lessen the impression that he is not cooking for them as indicated, but cooking ahead of them. It’s kind of like boxing up meals for lunches and then handing them to judges. Or frozen dinners.” Forsythe paused slightly, considering, then shrugged. “Not that it matters if it’s delicious.” He was already stirring the cranberries. He hadn’t yet bothered with the scallops. The carrots were within seconds put in a pan and set with chicken broth of some type and set to simmer. It almost felt like it was an afterthought to Forsythe.

“Let’s see what Chef Dave thinks!” Dmitri added, looking a little non-committal for the first time. His strange expression lent credence to the idea that Forsythe was an actual worry all of a sudden. “Chef Dave!” Dmitri padded through a door nearby into the next kitchen. “What do you think about our mystery contestant?”

“Well normally I would think it’s false bravado,” Dave said immediately. He was eyeing a boiling water pan with gnocchi in it, and also turning a large tenderloin over an exposed flame. “But you don’t beat thousands of other contestants in an open ruling with false bravado. Something about him made everyone like his food. Whether it was his personality or the extreme tastiness of his dishes! I am personally hoping there is a close judging with…” Dave turned toward the camera and grinned conspiratorially, “a favorable outcome of course.”

“I’m sure that whoever wins will most certainly deserve it!” Dmitri said brightly. “Let’s switch to Forsythe while I make my way over. I bet he’s going to say much the same!”

“I hope so.” Chef Dave grunted.

Forsythe, when they switched to him was already checking his carrots with marked precision. In a pan water was boiling. He paused once to wipe his hands clean on a synth towel and added cranberries, raisins, and apple chunks. He glanced up as if suddenly aware that he was on camera.

“There are red lights on the hover cams that let you know when they’re on you.” Aidan supplied suddenly. Amelia didn’t know how he knew that, but didn’t doubt him. Forsythe seemed to be aware of it as well because unbidden he began talking to the camera.

“I’ve already added sugar and now I’m adding these,” he gestured to the variety of cranberries, raisins, and apple chunks. “They’ll simmer til they pop for about 10 minutes and then I’ll cool them for the rest of the match.” Confidently, Forsythe added the chunks in and stirred once before returning to his cleaning. He already had cooking oil prepared and was lazily bringing it up to temperature. “The real cooking will begin in about 5 minutes near the end of the match when I sear the scallops in cooking oil. The carrots, which I have rolled gently in brown sugar, will be done as well and will provide a base for the scallops to rest on over a slightly spicy warm brown sauce.”

“Sounds great!” Dmitri had finally crossed the rooms and entered. “What do you think your chances for victory are?”

“Fifty-fifty,” Forsythe replied generously. “I will, or I won’t since there are two of us.”

“Ah. Ah hah.” Dmitri seemed at a loss, choosing that moment to accidentally lose the lapel microphone that was hooked onto his collar. It fell to the side of the range that Forsythe was on. He bent down to retrieve it as several bursts of embarrassing audio squelches sounded as it skidded across the floor. That was, however, when disaster really struck. It had obviously been unintentional but he had crossed that sacred line in the kitchen where people shouldn’t be unless they were assisting a chef. The reason was simple.

Dmitri leaned down and moved forward, the gap between his sweater and the back of his neck dangerously hooking the panhandle that held the boiling chutney cranberry mixture. He started to straighten when he felt he was hooked on something and the pan moved, as if in slow motion, downward and toward his head.

“Ack!” Raven cried out, Elisha covered her eyes.

Instead, amazingly, Forsythe had reached out and placed his upward palm on the underside of the descending pan. Dmitri and Forsythe both froze, and Amelia could almost see the thoughts behind Forsythe’s eyes. He had saved Dmitri from boiling chutney to the face, but now he was holding a red hot pan with his bare palm. He stared quietly for half a moment, and the lapel in Dmitri’s hand clearly picked up the sound of sizzling flesh.

Aidan had jumped to his feet at some point as if he were going to rush from the scene and straight toward Forsythe. Realizing the futility of the action, he yelled with equal ineffectiveness at the light curtain. “JUST DROP IT FOR GOD’S SAKE.”

Instead, Forsythe calmly and almost gently replaced it on the range. Amazingly the contents had not fallen out of the pan. There was a moment of awkward silence in the studio, but not the ranch where Amelia sat.

“He did it on purpose.” Raven cried viciously. “He liked that other guy so much he’s cheating!”

“I don’t think so…” Aidan said slowly, a wave of unusual panic in his own expression.

“Is he okay?” Elisha exclaimed, finally removing her hands from her eyes.

“I can’t!” Raven got up as if to leave the room but instead started pacing the area behind the couch, casting terrified glances at the screen.

“Chef, I am so sorry!” Dmitri began, face pale and shaking. It was possible he would lose his job for this, making Amelia think it had truly been an accident.

“It’s no problem. Without fingerprints, I’m a potential criminal for the next little while.” Forsythe cracked a half-smile. Despite his deadpan joke, there was no laughter because he looked very pale and had a small sheen of sweat forming on his brow. Realizing his joke had fallen flat he calmly went to the sink and with his good hand retrieved a ziplock bag and some packaging cling saran wrap. He filled the bag with cool water and then placed his hand in the huge pack. Once that was done he awkwardly wrapped the cling saran wrap around the ziplock sealing his hand inside.

“For 2nd-degree burns, you should treat them with cool water. After this challenge is done I will go to a clinic and get some salve as well as have it looked at. The real danger is an infection.” He waited for a beat as if he were merely explaining something that had happened to someone else. “I’ll probably ask for a mild painkiller.” He stopped lecturing, and Amelia was once again struck with how Forsythe always seemed to be cognizant that there were people watching who might be interested in what he was doing.

“Are you alright?” Dmitri demanded.

He wasn’t the only one. The camera had briefly switched to the judges who were now all watching a screen with great interest. They were murmuring quietly, obviously trying to decide if there needed to be any sort of intervention. When nothing immediately happened a shaken Dmitri regained his composure and resumed coverage. Gone was the mostly jovial countenance he’d been sporting and in its place was a hard smile and a pale face.

The rest of the cooking went in a flash. It was almost painful to watch but no one in the room was willing to turn it off. Now they had to know who was going to win. The rest of the match went largely without incident, Dave not knowing of the calamity that had occurred in the kitchen next to his and Forsythe diligently cooking with a large water-filled ziplock on his hand. At some point, he noticed that the cameras seemed to be sticking with him and he made to wave with his bad hand, remembered that it had a ziplock bag on it making it look like a stump, and then lowered it. After a moment he simply ‘arr’d’ at the camera like he was a pirate.

Elisha had held her breath once when Forsythe had struggled to plate all his food in that last minute. A miracle of miracles he got it all on the plate with his typical precision just as the timer announced that no more additions would be allowed. Without much preamble, Dave and Forsythe were ushered into a room with the judges and Dave gave his spiel first. He talked about the tenderness of the beef as well as the richness of the gnocchi. To his credit, he had only acknowledged Forsythe’s ziplock bag once, with a widening of eyes and then a soft understanding expression crossing his face. If he felt sorry for Forsythe he was holding it in until the conclusion of the battle.

The judges all made noncommittal noises as they chewed through his food, doing their best to look like they were playing poker. At the conclusion, though they had all neatly cleaned the very small plates that had been set before them looking pleased nonetheless. When Forsythe’s dish hit the table there were some immediate and nonverbal reactions. The first two judges, Anton and Buffy, simply looked surprised. Clive was the first and last to speak as they ate his dish. “Interesting choice of components.”

“Now we’ll be back in a few minutes of a sponsored commercial break with the results.” Dmitri looked like he had aged several decades. The curtain faded to a commercial with some cereal pill on it. Normally they would have skipped the ad since this was on the ethernet, but since it was a live simulcast the judges really did need that 5 minutes to decide who had won.

“I’m calling mom.” Elisha decided. She disappeared into the kitchen to place the call on her terminal, deciding telling Tali, or Hunter, about Forsythe burning his hand, was more important than watching a cereal pill commercial.

“Still gonna win?” Raven looked forlornly at Aidan.

“I thought you liked it better when there was a chance he could lose?” Aidan asked peevishly. They glared at each other for a long moment before Raven finally broke her gaze, muttering an apology. That just seemed to unnerve Aidan who immediately relented and gave her a withering look and a quick reassurance that of course, he would win.

“He’ll still win.” Amelia said confidently. They both looked at her, wondering what her reason for confidence was. “Even if the judges don’t like his dish as much that just means their taste is crap.” She explained. “He wins no matter what. He was more entertaining to watch for one thing, and his dish wasn’t pre-prepared. I don’t care what they say. He wins.”

Raven grinned. “Stubborn.” She said suddenly, mimicking Forsythe.

“I’d rather he lost anyway,” Amelia said airily. “I’m not losing Elysium’s best cook to the real world cooking network.”

“Stingy,” Aidan said, taking his turn mimicking Forsythe.

“Back with the results!” Dmitri suddenly returned, almost early. It was possible that the network was excited because it seemed like they had cut their advertising early to get to the results.

Anton Frederick was facing the two, and he was the first to speak. “First of all let me praise you, Forsythe, it is more than a little amazing that a net game phenom made it this far. If half the people on my staff cooked as well as you I’d just sit at home all day not worrying about my company.” He paused half a beat. “Be that as it may, today you were just outclassed. Chef Dave was prepared, ready, and with your accident, I feel he had an additional edge. I chose Chef Dave.” Anton sat back, stone-faced. Forsythe nodded easily as if he didn’t care one way or the other. Chef Dave smiled and nodded, but didn’t celebrate just yet. There were two more judges, even if he was confident.

Georgette “Buffy” Summers was next. “Wow, Chef Dave was prepared. It was so good. Tender, juicy, and I don’t know what all went into that rub so I have to say a good job. There aren’t many dishes where I dig in and enjoy every single bite. I’m not able to identify all the spices that went into the taste, either! It was like you knew my taste buds better than me!” Chef Dave nodded but didn’t look happy. It was like he knew what was coming next and with his vast wealth of experience, perhaps he did. “Forsythe. Mm, as much as I was dreading telling you that you weren’t going to cut it and you weren’t going to get married… I was surprised. Each bite I took of your dish was complete. I don’t mean fastidiously or even solid. I mean phenomenal. This is the first time I’ve ever had someone cook something that took such a low required cook time and still made me glad I came. I liked Dave’s dish, I really did.” She looked almost apologetic. “With yours, I was hoping for seconds. I am voting for Forsythe, which I know, I know, is going to draw a lot of criticism. Still, it was so good I can’t NOT vote for it.”

“A split vote!” Dmitri turned to Clive. “Care to be our tie-breaker? With traditional rules, you will have to make a choice. The third judge can never be a draw. I’m sorry judge!”

“No need. I knew what my co-judges would likely vote for so I was planning on being the deciding vote all along.” Clive Stass looked, once again, as if everything were going exactly as he predicted.

“First let me compliment you Forsythe for making it this far. I was reluctant to accept you as a true entry earlier today. Furthermore, I have to admit I was a little irritated that you asked to be referred to by a game handle. My daughter does that as if the name I gave her wasn’t good enough for her in the first place. That and you are a chef in AAO?” Forsythe nodded, not looking insulted in the slightest. “Well, I never thought there were many similarities between cooking in a VRMMO game and the real world.”

“Perhaps not in many ways.” Forsythe allowed, speaking up much to the surprise of everyone present. Most of the time contestants didn’t dare speak until judgment was spoken, let alone agree with a judge who was pointing out a possible negative.

“I couldn’t be bothered to read all of the applicants today, don’t you agree?” Clive said mildly.

“That would have been foolish.” Forsythe agreed.

“But, I had time to kill and my choices were visiting the mini-bar at the hotel or come to the event early. So I donned my disguise, a hat, and mingled in the crowd.” Clive smiled suddenly as if the idea that a famous food critic could merely disappear with just a hat was depressing. There was a hint of bitterness in that smile “So I’m wandering around and I did, in fact, visit both of your booths today. Do you know why?”

Forsythe and Chef Dave shook their heads.

“Because you can tell who is going to advance by the crowd. So it wasn’t that hard to find you. Chef Dave, let me say that rarely have I seen skill on par with yours, and I do not give praise lightly. To work on your ingredients for the final battle while working for a crowd? Truly impressive. I think your method for engaging the crowd was spectacular as well. I think there may be a future for you on a net themed cook show with a live audience. Truly fantastic. You deserve to be here.”

“Thank you,” Dave said awkwardly.

“Then there is you Forsythe.” Clive paused almost distastefully. “You know there is a reason we have a culinary school. It’s because most people have to work hard and aren’t born geniuses. When I came to your stall, I knew immediately you are just one of those disgusting people who never have a doubt in their mind and always knows the right answer. Truly, I hate that kind of person the most.”

“Can he say that? Is he supposed to be able to say that?” Hissed Elisha.

“So I sat there, in front of your grill, watching you as you painstakingly explained each part of your cooking process to the myriad of uneducated passerby and I was a little taken aback,” Clive admitted, steepling his hands. “Most of this match, in fact, I had the studio send me all the footage from your stall because I just couldn’t believe it.”

“I would be happy to help you with whatever question you have,” Forsythe said slowly, obviously not sure what this was about. “Thank you, for your feedback.”

“Well, each question anyone asked, you paused and would tell them how many times you had tried it and what results you had. In addition to that, each new wave of customers you put on new food immediately. You didn’t cook ahead. That is really stupid.” Clive nodded softly, and even the other two judges began nodding. “You should always cook ahead because you don’t know your numbers and it’s just hard to keep track of so many ingredients and how long they have been on the grill. People start to complain if their things are undercooked or overcooked or if you don’t have enough dishes available. Lines that are too long are the death of most chefs”

Aidan started to laugh, that low hideous laughter he had when he saw something really funny that no one else saw. A laugh at a joke that no one else knew was funny until later when they had it explained to them. Elisha and Amelia glared at him, unwilling to ask him what he knew. It was obvious Aidan knew the outcome of this statement.

“Forsythe victory,” Raven whispered, her eyes wide. When Amelia turned to her she immediately explained. “In LS, we would encounter large groups of monsters with the same abilities. They wouldn’t use the abilities at the same time but they had the same cooldown before they could be used again. Forsythe can keep track of like, 50 of them at once, to the second.”

Clive continued on the curtain. “So I’m standing there watching, and that never happens. You keep talking and this crowd appears around you. They are mostly just eating, listening to you while you cook at some point. That’s what struck me first. The sheer volume of people that you had already serviced that just hung out. As if they were waiting for the crowd to agree you were the best so they could tentatively throw their lot in with you. Approval of the mass of people that were afraid to speak out by themselves.”

Clive shook his head, earning strange looks from Buffy and Anton, who had obviously not been crowd surfing earlier in the day. “So I brought up my terminal and started keeping track of how long you cooked. To my amazement, you cooked each and every dish you served to within a few seconds regardless of where they were in line, without a timer of any kind. It didn’t seem to matter if they were 1st in line or 15th, they all got food that had been cooked for approximately the same time once they had placed an order.”

Anton seemed to choke, he had been in the middle of drinking a glass of water. Buffy’s mouth opened, and even though she had voted for Forsythe she didn’t seem to believe what Clive had just said. The camera switched to Chef Dave’s reaction, and his face was closed and guarded as if he were waiting. It seemed victory was no longer certain, but Clive had not spoken of the dishes before him yet.

“Wow.” Elisha leaned forward, bringing her knees up under her chin with that acrobatic greatness young girls seemed to possess.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to vote for you!” Clive wagged his finger, relishing the spotlight. It seemed he liked being the 3rd judge and wasn’t ready to give it up with just that. “I reviewed the footage to make sure I was right before I even acknowledged that much. Then your dish and Chef Dave’s dish came in front of me. Chef Dave’s was spot on. The only critical thing I can say about it is your showmanship was a little of a letdown. Really, this is a 45-minute showdown and your dish has hours put in ahead of your competitor so you should have been more involved with the camera.” Clive shook his head, earning a worried look from Chef Dave. “Forsythe, I was prepared to make you lose right here in front of me if I found anything wrong with your dish. So let me get right down to it.”

“Yes?” Forsythe asked him after he was quiet for a moment. Again, it seemed like he didn’t understand a word Clive was saying and was simply waiting for the answer as to whether he won or not.

“I can tell that you have cooked extensively. Perhaps even to an insane extent since you began. I am not going to ask for how long, because I think the answer would anger me. If you told me last week I would flip this table and walk out, to hell with this station and this studio.” He raised his eyebrows but Forsythe shook his head. It had been, really, a couple of months. It seemed prudent not to mention it and thankfully Forsythe did not. “Good. Then I am pleased to select you as the winner of this competition. This was hands down the best scallop dish I have ever had in my entire life.”

Stunned silence met his pronouncement in the studio, but back in the ranch Elisha and Raven were holding hands and dancing around in front of the light curtain. Aidan leaned back on the couch as if he were winded. Amelia leaned back against the couch and poked his knees, nonverbally suggesting that he should return to petting her instead of being tired.

“So what are you going to do with the $75,000?” Clive asked, leaning in and narrowing his eyes with sudden interest. “I’m loathe to make another competitor, but I can see you as my rival.”

“Money doesn’t make rivalry,” Forsythe answered. “Chef Dave can have it. I tried his dish, and it was very good. I think he’ll have an excellent restaurant when he opens it with his family. I was hoping to visit it soon.” He turned and looked at the dazed Chef. Dave nodded, looking too tired for words. Amelia privately wondered when Forsythe had a chance to try out the other chef's dish. He hadn’t been that worried about the judge’s decision if he’d found the time. “Thank you all for your time and attention.” He bowed awkwardly and started to leave before anyone could stop him.

“Uhh,” Dave began awkwardly. “Doesn’t the loser usually leave first?”

“Wait!" Hunter actually managed to push past a stagehand from the show into the staging area. She looked strangely disheveled and was wearing nurse scrubs.

“A wild mom appears!” Elisha’s mouth started to hang open.

“Forsythe!” Hunter looked around nervously for a moment and noticed that the other Chef was still standing at the table and Forsythe was walking away. “I don’t care if you won or not.”

“Oh, well, that’s good bu--” Forsythe began.

Hunter almost burst into tears when he started to forestall her with the ziplocked hand and interrupted him again. “It doesn’t matter! Really!” Hunter moved toward him and stood in front of him, taking his hand. Slowly, she took a knee.

Meanwhile, at Rebel Ranch, everyone watched the phenomenon.

“Your mom is perfect for Forsythe. She is kind of an idiot too.” Raven nodded.

Elisha nodded along absentmindedly. “I hope I’m an idiot someday.”

“Same,” Raven sighed.

“Forsythe, will you marry me?” Hunter looked up at him. The studio, for what it was worth, had all cameras trained on this sudden impromptu drama and multiple camera angles were being taken for both her reaction and his response.

“That is what I want,” Forsythe broke into a large smile.

The cameras kept a wide-angle on the two as they spoke quietly to one another but the focus returned to the panel and the ‘winner’.

Chef David laughed painfully nearby, “Ever feel like you’ve seen something you can’t top?”

Dmitri laughed just as pained. “I’m getting the impression that our newest sensation isn’t all that used to the way things are normally done! Besides such strong pronouncements, you can hardly call yourself a loser! In addition, you are being awarded the cash prize!”

Chef Dave stared after Forsythe thoughtfully, and the rest of the program dissolved into the judges talking animatedly about the contestants and what the future might hold. Clive, normally quiet, even joined the talk enthusiastically, pleasing his co-judges greatly.