The park had nearly cleared of
players. After the event fireworks they had cleared out to go run content until
their matches began, The End of the World Club was oblivious to the fact that
they were standing in the middle of the empty area, desperately trying to come
up with some kind of plan.
Blackout was pacing back and
forth while talking to himself like a crazy person. “Hey Cypherion, it’s
Blackout, it’s been a while, have an opportunity for you, hit me back when you
get this.”
Stygian and Bob watched him pace
back and forth. “Jesus Bob please tell me I wasn’t part of one of these desperate
telethons.” He looked at her.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’d
remember how eager you were to comeback before you define desperate for me.” She
snapped, then caught herself. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That was really bitchy. “She turned
to face Stygian. “We only ever thought of you, if you hadn’t come back it
wouldn’t have been right to call anyone else.” She said in an awkward attempt
at making amends.
Stygian looked down at her. “If
that’s the case then why not call Torcano.” He asked.
She looked like she had been
slapped and took a step back in shock. “I, He, That’s not the same thing.” She stuttered.
Blackout stopped pacing. “Cypherion
isn’t answering his phone, Galtir is in the middle of a pretty nasty divorce
and Vehbune is in prison for the next 15 to life, which makes us the mayors of
scewedsville. Also when this is over, so like, right now, we should really
re-evaluate our social connections.” Blackout looked around the empty park. “Where’d
Trart go?” He asked, causing Bob and Stygian to look around as well.
Back at the Front entrance sign
Trart approached The Matriarch who was alone now, still sitting and knitting. “Miss,
uh, misses, um, The Matriarch?” He asked finally. “I just wanted to apologize
for my behavior earlier.” He offered.
She shook her head without taking
her eyes off her knitting. “No worries.” She replied warmly.
Tart stood there in awkward
silence, something on his mind. When she realized he was still there she
smiled. “What’s on your mind son?” She asked.
“I have a question but I don’t
want to sound rude.” He explained.
“Why did I choose to look like an
an old woman?” She asked.
Trart looked even more embarrassed
but nodded.
The Matriarch put her knitting
away. “You ever seen a movie called “The Soalarbabies?” She asked. Trart shook
his head. “Put in in your queue, you’ll like it. Basic idea is that if I look
like this and can earn the reputation I have earned than everything I have
done, I did because of my genuine skills and abilities. There is no
intimidation factor to my avatar. I am an old, fat, woman. The only intimidation
I possess is the power of my reputation.” She explained.
Trart nodded. “Then why not play
in the games?” He asked.
She smiled sadly. “Because my
reputation is powerful enough now that even in this avatar a fair fight is
impossible. My name causes analysis paralysis even in the best of fighters. So
after the games The Matriarch will disappear and I will be just another name in
a sea of scrambling players. Free to once again to find the only real challenge
that exists in any game, a fair and honest fight.”
“You’re trying to grab smoke.”
Trart blurted out.
The Matriarch looked confused. “I’m
what?” She asked.
Trart worked his way through an
explanation. “You can do whatever you please, but changing your name and
creating a new avatar won’t get you any closer to a ‘fair’ fight because you’re
still the one at the computer. Changing your name isn’t going to magically
increase the skill level of the player base, it will just convince people who
never stood a chance against the real you in the first place to unknowingly feed
your ego, what’s fair about that?” He asked. The Matriarch was stunned. Trart
suddenly realized just how bluntly he had spoken his piece and it caused him to
flinch. “Please don’t kill me, I’m pretty sure I’m soul bound like twenty five
zones away.”
The Matriarch stood up. “With Torano
gone your guild is short a member yeah?” She asked.
Trart dropped his pathetic
defensive stance and stood upright again. “Um, yeah.” He replied.
She smiled. “You’re not short
anymore.” She held out her hand. Trart looked at it and then smiled at the
Matriarch as he eagerly shook her hand.
