Playing into the night, a room illuminated by two computer monitors that chaotically change their hue to anyone with the unfortunate luck to step into the room where this story begins. The sound of tearing foil and soft munching can be heard right next to this creature enjoying some entertainment. After the chewing stops, shouting occurs as the clicking and clacking of a keyboard and mouse becomes fervent and determined. The attack on the keyboard stops abruptly and four quick slams ring out onto the desk.
Dark green hair flies in front of the creature's face as they thrash in their well-padded, tall office chair. The clothes wrapping this being’s form are flying about as well. Furiously connecting their palms to the desk; they explosively drop expletives out of their mouth. Just as quick as it appeared; the anger left this human girl. And all that remains is smoldering anger.
Enough is enough, she decides. This hasn’t been fun for a while now. She looks left and stares, blankly notating the white board calendars, scrawled on pieces of paper and old decorations. Paying more attention to the scantily clad posters on her left wall. She looks right and stares some more at the same sights; Posters, decorations from days past, whiteboards with more productive words on them, stains, cabinets, dressers.
Turning back to the computer, now on the lobby screen for the game this girl sighs, and folds her calves to her thighs in her chair, with her knees pointed toward the ceiling. She lets her arms hang over the armrest of the chair and sighs once again. This has been a cycle for this girl for months now. Playing Vertex Myths, colloquially known as just Vertex; an ability driven, movement based battle royale shooter that occupies the minds and hands of millions worldwide.
But she has realized that Vertex occupies those hands out of addiction. Her story is to enter the algorithmic match-making, get paired with 2 bottom-feeders who couldn’t even hear or feel a rocket go shooting off into space if they were one of its passengers, loot for 20 whole minutes while one of them plays the most normie music she has ever heard and the other is dead silent microphone-wise, but very communicative with how they will slide everywhere and swipe everything she was thinking of taking, even if her thoughts are snap decisions.
Then after finally getting to hear gunfire from a nearby firefight after walking ingame through a meandering loot-oriented path for an additional 5 minutes. They stumble their way to the fight and the poor girl finds herself constantly engaging the remaining combatants first cause waiting for her drooling, sniveling biomasses called teammates would leave her waiting for multiple lifetimes. She dies after nearly killing two enemy team members and can barely contain her ever-mounting disdain. For her viewing pleasure, once being killed in game. Vertex Myth’s game engine shifts to her teammates point of view which are skilled at shooting bullets but are woefully unskilled at hitting enemy players with bullets. They die shortly after her and both can’t manage to finish the last person. The enemy hides to heal and neither ally presses the attack, favoring to do the same. Once both parties are healed they lose unceremoniously in her eyes. She is glued to their actions despite being given the ability to leave and re-queue at any moment. A sick sense of wanting to see the fool’s play conclude.
Upon their death she coldly calls them trash and offers advice; uninstall the fucking game. They attempt to speak because she is feminine-sounding over voice chat but they can never reach her, she has already left the game end screen and back in the lobby, alone.
Enough is enough. She opens the ranked information. Platinum.
She stares wordlessly, looking to see something, searching for something against her impressive stats, but they provide no balm for her stinging pain.
“I am going to touch some fucking grass. And get a soda.” She leaves her curled up position to swivel in her gaming chair toward the door and immediately trips not due to a can or clothing, but due to her vision blacking out and her muscles being zapped of stamina from sitting so long.
“You need more Iron in your diet, Alexandria. Otherwise you will always be a comedy show every time you get up.”
Now that the game has finished its torment of Alexandria’s mind, her mind follows up with its own assault of her condition, remembering her mother's words about her game “addiction”. Nonetheless she gets up and makes for the door to her room after steadying herself. Stepping perfectly in between piles of clothes and cans. At least her trash is together, she thinks.
Thankfully her blinds are open so the stairs are bathed in moonlight, clearing a path through her home.
“I just can’t with these shitters anymore man. I try my hardest and they never keep up, I have tried being nice to them, or waiting for their fucking engage and it either, OR BOTH, fucks me over because now I have to pick their jaw off the floor or wait for Vertex’s next patch for them to finally fucking engage.”
After finishing her open mouth tirade against the metaphysical “teammate” in Alexandria’s mind, she covers her dark green hair with a thick pink wool cat-ear hat and reflective orange gloves for her black hands. Alexandria takes her flashlight with keychain’ed pepper-spray, along with her phone and keys to leave her home to walk to the corner store 24 and 7. People who have heard of this store remember it as “twenty four.” in the word kind specifically.
As she cracks open the door, the cold night winter air blasts Alexandria in the face. The icy wind completely nullifying the warmth provided by her house.
“If only that fucking wind was like my subhuman teammates and then I would finally no longer have to fucking carry.” Alexandria laughs to herself about the fools of her life and finishes putting on her shoes. Now completely armed and overly warm in her home, she steadies herself before walking back down the stairs and strides toward her door, opening it and embracing the cold night air. Crushing snow underfoot Alexandria closes her door and locks it and shoves the key into her pants pocket.
Once more she turns back and surveys her surroundings and makes sure nothing is clearly amiss. Nothing is out of the ordinary tonight as usual in Bowl. The trek there was uneventful, Once at twenty-four, said nothing to the waiting cashier and walked straight for the salty, bagged chips aisle. Once there she picked up two bags, Barbeque BlasterCrunch Chips and Lil’ Alex’s CiniTwists. Her favorite’s. Of course you had to get something to drink with this mix of salty and sweet foods. She chose Amberaku’s Green Tea and didn't tip the cashier.
Not because Alexandria feels the cashier should be paid more by their multi-million dollar employer, but because she doesn't feel the cashier is worth it.
On the walk home, Alexandria felt like she was being followed.
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