I woke up next to Count B on the hover cot. I yawned, rubbed my eyes, and looked at the play clock. Instead of seeing the time, I was greeted by a red—
DNF
—on my HUD screen.
“Hey ERNI… what’s this?”
“I’m afraid I am unable to access your inventory, stats, or the game system,” ERNI announced. “They have locked us out of the game, now that you are considered disqualified.”
“Those cheating bastards…” I grumbled.
All of my weapons and power-ups were in that virtual playbook.
Wait a minute…
My trusty pizza cutters.
I looked over, relieved to see them hanging in my leather holster belt, on the back of a chair.
ERNI continued. “I was able to synchronize the halftime countdown clock before the menus greyed out.”
He displayed it on my HUD.
Halftime: 00:01:27:49
“Great work, ERNI.”
Halftime was scheduled for 12 hours, and we had little under 90 minutes left.
Still—clocks had become unreliable allies. My concept of time became more distorted with each hour of this game.
My last shift at Rat E. Cheddar’s felt like eons ago. My kiss with Sola seemed like a distant memory. And, I couldn’t remember the last time I played Ogre-Splat with J-Dawg8. Everything was a blur—a big, cosmic, crumbled-up ball of crap.
The only fact I could anchor to... was that I wasn’t a quitter.
Mom had drilled that into me.
She often lectured when I sulked… “Your father says ‘Winners never quit and quitters never win.’”
I’d caught hell, more than once, asking her why she quoted a man who didn’t care about us. Still, she kept on repeating it.
Growing up, I heard that quote so many times, that I was stunned to learn it was the famous Green Bay Packers coach, Vince Lombardi, who coined it—and not my parents.
Well… mission accomplished, Mom.
I wouldn’t quit on finding Blady, saving Sola, and stopping Krivlax.
Krivlax. I wasn’t sure if he was watching me. But, either way, I spoke aloud—
“You can take your offer and shove it up your avocado ass!”
Count B shuddered awake. He scratched his leafy head, confused.
COUNT BASIL: …leaf?
I sat upright on the cot, shaking a fist in the air.
“Yeah… you’re watching me… aren’t ya, moss-face? Well, watch me kick your champion’s ass! Watch me win this whole damn thing!”
Overwhelmed with emotion, I leaned forward, rocking on the edge of the cot, head in my hands. Count B rubbed my back.
I raised my gauntlet and tapped a button. A holographic image projected in the air—my mountaintop selfie with G.
There he stood, annoyed with me, as usual. That toothy scowl masking his true emotions. He was glad to be there, as a team, in that moment. He just knew how to hide it well.
I couldn’t hide my pain now. The tears flowed. Count B reached a leafy arm out, caressing the translucent portrait.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf…
“I know. I miss him, too, buddy.”
I wiped away tears as I started to laugh.
“Remember how he kept messing up my name? Triple Crust, Sam. Meat Lover’s, Sam. Yeah… I’m gonna miss that.”
Of course, later I found out that he was doing that on purpose, pulling my funniest star-tag nicknames off the Wormhole and trying to get a rise out of me. Furry punk.
We stared at the hovering portrait for a while. Count B plucked one of his leaves and set it on the ground beneath the photo. It was a loving gesture, as one might place flowers on a grave.
COUNT BASIL: Leaf.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to make them all pay.”
I felt rage welling up in my soul. Pain, turning into purpose.
If halftime was about adjustments, I was about to turn this entire tournament on its head. Krivlax and Blady loved to cheat and rig the game. No problem. Two could play it that way. It was time to level the playing field.
----
I sat at the table, opened a toolkit, and began to disassemble my gauntlet. ERNI awoke from his digital rest state.
“Uhhh… Sam… what are you doing?”
“I need to see inside of you.” I scrunched my lips. “Okay, that didn’t come out right. I need to look at your circuitry.”
“May I ask why?”
“You are official ISL-issued equipment, and gauntlets are how Krivlax and his crew control the warriors in the game. So I figure they’ve gotta have some kind of governor or master control chip in here. If we can find it, we can use your glitch to our advantage, and just might be able to help you level up.”
The inside mechanics were far more advanced than I imagined. This was genius level architecture—so far ahead of anything humans had ever designed. Still, I wasn’t a complete novice when it came to electronics. At junior college, I was top programmer in my class. I specialized in soldering and circuitboard work.
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I had been taking things apart and putting them back together again since I was a little kid. On more than one occasion, I ignited mom’s wrath by disassembling her favorite blender, the vacuum cleaner, and even our microwave—just to see how they worked.
It took some doing, but with ERNI’s help, we were able to locate the ISL master control chip and remove it. Instantly, ERNI’s functionality returned, and we were able to regain access to my inventory and other features of the game system.
A series of missed notifications scrolled across my HUD.
LEVEL UP!
You Have Reached Level 4!
Reward: +250,000 Points!
New Class! You have leveled up from ‘Pizza Pugilist’ to ‘Menacing Meatsack.’
New Abilities:*
+5% Faster Healing.
+5% Striking Power.
+5% Enemy Weakness Targeting.
Primary Weapon Upgrade!
The following upgrades have been applied to Pizza Cutters:
+Laser-Enhanced, Chainsaw Blades
“No friggin’ way…”
SHIIING!
I drew my pizza cutters from their holsters, and the blades expanded, spinning up with a loud, growling—
VRRRRRRRR!
They shredded through the air—chunky, jagged chainsaw blades, outlined with red laser beams.
“Oh, hell yeah!”
Count B gave me a leafs up—
COUNT BASIL: Leaf!
“I know, right?!”
I performed a few quick slashes and spins, getting a feel for their performance.
I also noticed that my biceps and chest had grown bigger. Perhaps a boost from reaching level 4.
Satisfied, I sat back down and set them on the table. I thought of G, replaying a conversation in my mind. I could still hear his deep, rocky voice—
“…why have you not named your weapons?”
“What? My pizza cutters?”
“Yes. Your blades. A true warrior names his weapons so that his enemies will fear them—far and wide. Stories will be told, songs will be sung about the weapons, the hands that wielded them, and the blood that they spilled.”
Naming the pizza cutters had become something of a running joke between us. I'd never taken the task seriously.
Until now.
I pulled out G's lost tooth and used it to scratch a name onto the surface of each pizza cutter.
‘SLICE’ and ‘DICE.’
I didn't know if the names were fearsome enough. But they made sense to me. And I hoped they would make G proud.
I holstered the pizza cutters, grabbed a drill, and tried boring a small hole through the top of G’s tooth.
VRRRR!
Man… what was it made of? Vibranium?
I burned up three drill bits before punching all the way through.
I unclasped my mother's necklace and added G’s tooth next to the game pendant. I put it back on and looked at myself in the holo-scan mirror.
I was wrecked. Hair matted. Bloodshot eyes. Weathered and weary. Half a week's worth of stubble had grown in. Staring at my hardened expression felt like I was looking at someone else. I had empathy for this ‘stranger’—for what he’d been through. And I wanted to see him win.
----
I sifted through my inventory, checking out the new stuff, when one item piqued my curiosity:
Swagger Crystals.
Consume 1 Crystal to Increase Swagger +5%.
I had gotten these off the Fractal Fangs. The small bag looked like it contained about 10 crystals in total.
Fuck it.
I dumped them all into my mouth and chewed them up. They were crunchy and sour, but not entirely terrible.
I checked my stats. Even though they weren’t getting updated anymore, I at least needed to know where I stood.
Warriors: 2,497,855
Level: 4
Race: Human
Class: Menacing Meatsack
Rank: 2,497,855
Points: 3,690,000
Fans: 2,927,855
I went to retrieve my swift armor and noticed there was a new sports uniform hanging inside one of the lockers. There wasn’t enough protection for me to call it armor.
There was a white helmet with an orange stripe down the center, a high-tech pair of metal shoulder pads, an orange, muscle tank top, and blue pants with stripes down the sides.
I touched the fabric, surprised. It felt unlike any garment I’d ever worn before. It had a metallic sheen and fancy LED filaments woven throughout.
As I inspected the uniform, an info box popped above—
Invisi-Built Performance Sports Armor (Made with Hollow-mesh Technology)
This invisible armor endows the warrior with superior protection, while showcasing his perfected physique. Experience the thrill of battle with optimal flexibility, sports fashion, and unrivaled stopping power.
“Invisible sports armor?”
I put it on and it auto-adjusted to my size. Clearly I wasn’t the ripped hero the designers had in mind. Still, it felt great. Light and comfortable. I touched my exposed bicep and was stunned to feel an invisible layer of protection above my skin. The same went for the thin orange muscle shirt and pants. Though they appeared like simple fabric, they were anything but.
After a few moments, I worked up the courage to test my pizza cutters on them and was shocked. The laser-enhanced, chainsaw blades skipped right off the surface of my exposed arms, lightly-clad chest, and thighs. Sparks flew, but no blood.
“Incredible.”
The outfit only needed one modification to be perfect. I touched the helmet and shirt and thought ‘color change: purple.’ Just like LED gaming lights, the helmet stripe and muscle shirt adjusted from orange to purple.
I kissed the tooth on my necklace and pointed a finger up.
“That’s for you, G.”
----
There were ten minutes left of halftime. This was the moment of ‘the speech.’ The time, when legendary coaches inspired great athletes to go out and give their all. Usually, just for the glory of sport. But, we had so much more riding on this.
I was never one for giving speeches. I sucked in debate class and nearly got booed off stage during a sports award assembly, accepting an award for cross country.
Still, this moment wasn’t about me. This was about big guys versus little guys and I had two little guys depending on me.
I propped the gauntlet up next to Count B. He had outgrown his pot and had taken to the endless capacity of the quest sack like a hermit crab to a seashell. There, ERNI and Count B sat, staring at me. Well, for as much as an AI gauntlet and an eyeless plant can stare.
The point is, there they sat, waiting for inspiration. And I was the only one who could give it to them.
So, I culled through my memory of famous pep speeches throughout cinema lore. From Rocky to Any Given Sunday to Friday Night Lights to Remember the Titans.
I cribbed and I stole. I waved my arms and raised my voice with such thunderous passion, that I even surprised myself.
“Men… ahem… AI and plant…
We find ourselves at the dawn of utter destruction after having endured the nights of sorrows and peril. And here we are, tucked in this little corner, while the rest of the multiverse has all but forgotten about us. They have written us off. Thrown us away. Discarded us, as if we don’t matter.
But I am here to tell you… we matter.
It is up to us to avenge every planet they have destroyed. Every life they have extinguished. Every rule they have broken. Every speck of soil they’ve spilled blood upon.”
I paced back and forth.
“They will say… what can a mere plant, a faulty AI, and a pizza baker do to resist our might? How can such lowly, pathetic opposition give us any pause at all? They say that we pose no threat. That we are dispensable. Weak. And hopeless. They expect us to lay down, wither, and die. But you know what I say?
Nah, fam.
We ain’t going out like that.
They say these things because they are afraid.
Afraid of what we can do when we band together.
Afraid of the power of our combined strengths.
They tremble at the thought of the savagery we can bring to bear when we are pushed to the very limits of our souls and declare in one voice - ‘we shall be pushed no further!’
No.
It is time that we push back.
Harder and faster than they can ever imagine. Striking down their hubris. Smashing their folly. Destroying their false pride with every swing of our blades. Every punch of our leaves. Every thought of our calculations.
We shall turn the tide in our favor and avenge the little ones lost to time!
We shall rise up strong and vindicate those who were cast aside!
We shall slash and stomp and punch and kick and rip and tear and crush and demolish every defense they can muster!
We shall offer no quarter as we crumble their hopes and smite their ambitions!
WE WILL STORM THROUGH THEIR GATES AND NOT STOP SLAYING UNTIL THE FINAL BODY DROPS, THE LAST WHISTLE SOUNDS, AND WE RISE ATOP THE PILE, DRIPPING IN THEIR WETNESS OF THEIR RUINS, STANDING ALONE AS CHAMPIONS!!!”
COUNT BASIL: LEAF! LEAF! LEAF!
“LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO!” ERNI shouted.
’Let’s Fucking Go’ indeed.
I replaced the standard face shield on the new helmet with the shimmering, orange Veil-Rift Visor. I slipped on the gauntlet, and strapped on the quest sack.
Count B, ERNI, and I stepped towards the exit, ready for war.
