“Are you ready?” Norman asked, adjusting his tie in the reflection from the car window.

Dale pulled at his own tie, lifting his chin and ruining the perfect Windsor knot Norman made for him.

“Yeah.”

Norman narrowed his eyes, but starting an argument now would only put Dale in a bad mood, and he needed him to be on his best behavior.

“Let's do it then.”

They stepped out of the crowded ride-share and up to the entrance of the Kopi Cola corporate headquarters. Sweat began to bead on Dale’s forehead immediately but when they passed through the revolving doors and into the air-conditioned lobby it turned uncomfortably cold, and he was suddenly thankful for the stuffy clothes.

“Good evening Martha,” Norman greeted the receptionist with a beaming smile. “How are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re just fine, Norman. Hailey started her horseback riding lessons last week and now it’s horses this and horses that, all the time. Thank you again for the recommendation. That trainer is so good with her.”

“That’s wonderful! Do you have any pictures?”

He leaned in to ooh and aah over the receptionist’s phone while Dale looked around the towering lobby of plate-glass, steel, and polished marble. An abstract sculpture that probably cost more than their whole apartment building hung from the ceiling. It sure had a way of making him feel small. He pulled at his tie nervously again, but the knot hardly loosened its grip on his neck.

“Dale,” Norman called, nodding his head towards a bank of elevators. “Mister Garcia has a few minutes before his next meeting. We’re up.”

The express elevator whisked them to the eighty-first floor and Norman’s guest tablet guided them to the appropriate office. It also tracked their every step and word, so they kept to non-verbal communication until they reached the office of the Sponsorship Coordination Director.

They stood outside the door for a minute. There was no need to knock, the tablet would have alerted Mr. Garcia that they had arrived, but power-players liked their little games so they were made to wait just to remind them who was in charge. Dale rolled his eyes and Norman elbowed him in the ribs. When the door finally slid open, Mister Garcia looked up from the paper props he had scattered over his desk. No one at his level still used hard copy for anything other than appearances.

“Let’s make this quick,” He said without giving them his full attention. “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Norman agreed. “We wouldn’t want to take up any more of your valuable time than necessary. Would you mind telling us why you requested our presence here today?”

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Mister Garcia finally put his props aside and fixed the brothers standing before his table with a dispassionate stare.

“You aren’t performing up to the standards laid out in your contract. If this continues, Kopi Cola will have to withdraw our support from the Golden Gryphons and may even seek damages.”

Dale bristled but Norman managed to speak first.

“Of course, as is outlined in section eight of our contract, an early adjustment period was expected. Because OtherRealms Incorporated kept so many game features secret during development, our plans involved extensive information-gathering efforts so that we may optimize our strategies more quickly than our competitors who strive for short-term gains. A strong foundation and steady progress beats rapid expansion and inevitable collapse every time.”

“Even so, your performance has fallen below the lowest projections discussed in our contract. This isn’t a charity. If you can’t hold up your end of the bargain, we will find someone else who can.”

Norman smiled agreeably as he nodded along.

“I won’t argue with that, but I still maintain that our strategy will work out in the end. This is a marathon, not a sprint. No one is going to remember who was first out of the gate a year from now, Mr Garcia. They will only care who ends up on top.”

“I don’t know much about racing, but it isn’t usually the runner who falls on their face in the first few steps who ends up with the gold medal. Why should we continue to invest in your guild after such a poor initial showing?”

“Cause we’ve got a new plan, one that the other guilds haven’t acted on yet.” Dale cut in.

Norman glanced at his brother but didn’t stop him. They had to appear as a united front, even when one of them went off script.

“Our guild is full of professionals, the best of the best, but they’re used to much simpler games. The way things used to work, you could hold down a button and block every attack coming your way. Press another button and you could do a spinning backflip. In New World Online, it's all down to body control. If you gave one of our guildies a sword IRL, they could still stab someone with it, but they would be helpless against anyone who actually trains to use weapons. That’s our big problem, but it's a problem for everyone else too, and that makes it an opportunity for the first group that can adapt.”

Mister Garcia waved his hand in a gesture that said: go on.

“All we gotta do is hire people who already have those skills. We can teach them about game mechanics while they teach our pro gamers how to fight for real. There are tons of Olympic-level athletes out there who are too old to compete, but old age won’t slow them down in the game. Kendo, fencing, jiu-jitsu, boxing, archery, there’s no end to experienced fighters who are past their prime but would still love to share their skills and put them to use. Plus, pulling those pros into our guild should get their existing fans to pay attention too. That can only help our streaming view count. I’ve already got a couple dozen people interested, we just need your go-ahead.”

Mister Garcia looked at his Rolex and tisked.

“That’s our time gentlemen. I’ll give your proposal some thought and get back to you.”

“Of course,” Norman bowed his head. “Thank you for your time.”

When they got back out onto the street, Norman slapped his brother on the back of the head.

“Are you trying to blow this deal?”

Dale grinned.

“Just wait. It’s a good idea. Garcia just doesn’t want to look too eager. He’ll come around.”

“He better. The whole guild is counting on us.”